


At Fever Heat

by Nana_41175



Category: James Bond (Craig movies), James Bond (Movies)
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Anal Sex, Bonding, Fingering, Hand Jobs, Jealousy, Knotting, M/M, Masturbation, Mpreg, Omegaverse, Oral Sex, Pregnant Sex, Sixty-nine, The heat is on, agents volunteering to get the job done, all the drama, alpha!Bond, and wrong decisions, drug resistance to heat suppressants, going into heat, latching on, omega presentations, omega!Q, poor Q having to decide, synchronization
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-13
Updated: 2020-09-21
Packaged: 2021-02-28 03:20:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 20
Words: 36,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22696996
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nana_41175/pseuds/Nana_41175
Summary: *COMPLETE!*Written for MI6 Cafe's February prompt: He knew immediately– something had changed.His is an extremely rare case, though not exactly unheard of among omegas. At the ripe old age of thirty-two, Q’s body has had enough of heat suppressants.
Relationships: James Bond/Q
Comments: 504
Kudos: 978
Collections: Mi6 Cafe Prompt Fills





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey everyone! So, while I’m drowning in WIPs and February ought to be the month that we finish at least some of them, alas the Muse is off to another fic idea. 00Q omegaverse this time! Angst and biology issues galore, not to mention a lot of A/B/O-related sexytimes in future chapters! Enjoy!

Perhaps he was still in denial, for him to have blundered so badly. Cock-ups like this were typically reserved for newly realized Omegas who had yet to get used to their condition. Not him.

He was never the type to make rookie mistakes, and yet it had happened. He’d allowed his natural scent to be picked up at work, when he had no less than four alpha double-O agents coming in for their briefing throughout the afternoon.

Q should have seen this coming— the latest drug, failing yet again. The way the symptoms were gradually surfacing like so many dirty secrets refusing to be buried away, deep within his treacherous body: the night sweats, the flushing, the way his blood thrummed restlessly just beneath overly sensitive skin so that his normally steady hands evinced a fine tremor. Even worse were the occasional, torrid dreams that left him wet and aching, out of breath as though he’d ran a marathon, first thing in the mornings.

His inability to pick up on his own scent was perhaps the most excusable of the symptoms heralding the failure of the heat suppressants, though it was undoubtedly the most distressing. After all, who was aware of their own body odor until it became blatantly obvious?

He should have known what it all meant. He had known, in a way, and refused to acknowledge it. But that afternoon, it had disrupted his work— and a very important briefing with a particular double-O agent.

So now here he was, holed up in an urgent meeting at M’s office with the Chief of Medical.

Sitting there, hands twisted in his lap, he would have given much for them to just get to it and not dawdle on his history.

Ten drugs in almost twenty years, he knew that. Ever since he’d started presenting as an Omega at the age of thirteen. He should have prepared himself when Medical had started him on the monthly intramuscular injections. He should have known that they were at the end of their rope, yet he had hoped that this drastic measure would finally be it.

“Two months,” sighed Dr. Wang. “The most important thing was we tried.”

“Can’t we do some sort of combination, Doctor?” he asked, hating the thin thread of desperation that wound its way in his voice. He could almost taste the bitter note of it. “We used to combine the pills, made a cocktail…”

Dr. Wang shook her head. “Of course we can try the pills together with the injections,” she said resignedly, “but seeing as how you got over them so quickly as well…”

M nodded. “So we try,” he said. “Hopefully it will give us some time.”

“Of course, there is that other option,” Dr. Wang said, though she cast an apologetic glance at Q. “Involving a certain…lifestyle change.”

“I am aware of it as surely as our Quartermaster, thank you, Doctor,” said M with a tight smile.

After she left, M turned to him.

“Drug resistance is extremely rare though not unheard of among Omegas,” said M, as though to reassure him, “although it can’t come at a worse time. The injections were our last recourse, but as we can see from the incident earlier in Q branch, we can’t have you in close contact with the agents– majority of whom are unbonded alphas– while you’re like this.”

_This._

The word rankled, but Q merely nodded. He felt numb.

“There are, of course, two options open to us,” said M. “One: if everything fails, I will need to ask you to hand in your resignation…”

Q swallowed hard. He felt sick. He would have wanted to tell M that this was tantamount to workplace discrimination owing to a pre-existing condition. He'd tried everything to curb his biology, to no avail. Yet he knew that Whitehall would not object to his removal if this were to be put before those people. His was one of Six’s most closely guarded secrets. M would be cast into the fire along with him should the truth ever come out— the way this crucial information was held back from the bigwigs. And it would be open knowledge very soon. It was probably already making its rounds among the various departments at Six.

He opened his mouth, but M was ahead of him: “But your departure would be a catastrophe, and a huge loss for us which cannot be countenanced. I’m sure I’m not merely speaking for myself. It’s not something anyone here would ever consider.”

“Thank you, sir,” Q whispered.

“Which brings us to the second option,” continued M. “It’s something you should have considered a long time ago. Find yourself an alpha mate to bond with, and soon. It’s not going to take the heats away, but it will do much to alter your scent, make day to day functioning among others bearable, alphas included.”

Q bit his lip hard, as hard as his fingers digging into his fists.

“I wouldn’t bring it up at all if it were not necessary,” said M. “I have no wish to interfere in your life choices and how you conduct yourself outside work. But this impinges on your performance now, and therefore it becomes my responsibility. That is, if you should decide you’d want to continue here, with us.”

Q took in a breath, let it out slowly. “Of course I’d like to continue with my work here,” he said.

“Of course.”

“I’ll…see what I can do, sir,” he finally said.

“It shouldn’t be too hard,” said M bracingly. “Surely you have someone in mind. If not, you’ll need to start looking.”

Q knew better than let resentment take root because of M’s words. He glanced at his boss— a bonded alpha (no doubt that was how he could tolerate Q)—and knew that it was typical of the man to think nothing of his plight of finding a bonding mate. What was he to expect of an alpha, anyway? Yet if M were trying to be encouraging, he was making a poor case of it.

Still, he murmured, “there are one or two people I can approach. See how things go.”

“Good,” said M, relieved. He was already turning his attention to the papers on his desk. “I shall expect an update or two soon. In the meantime, we can have R deal with the alpha agents.”

“Yes, sir.”

Q took his leave not long after. He didn’t stop by Moneypenny’s desk, even though he knew she was gazing after him sympathetically as he made his exit. They would talk after hours, but not in the boss’s office.

He was grateful that the nearby washroom was devoid of occupants. He checked first before he started washing his hands. From now on, he would have to be careful not to be holed up in places such as this, where he could be cornered by someone— an alpha, or alphas, with widened eyes and flared nostrils, arousal blotting out all good sense and reason from one moment to the next.

He had seen that alarming change in 007 just that afternoon. Just the thought of it made him want to cringe and wither away, to bang his head repeatedly against the mirror before him.

 _Why_ , he thought despairingly, _oh why must it be Bond?_

Everything had been fine at the beginning. The man had been standing there before him barely two feet away, the width of his worktable separating them. He did not know how much worse it could have become were it not for that small obstacle between him and Bond.

He’d looked up from his monologue, wondering why Bond was being so uncharacteristically quiet.

One look at Bond’s face, at those startled, dilated eyes and the thinned mouth, and he’d known immediately– something had changed between them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here is chapter two, written in Bond's POV this time. Heads up as Alpha!Bond may seem very proprietary and coming on a bit too strong, but the way he sees it, he's just being Bond, ahaha. I hope you enjoy, and do let me know what you think!

* * *

James did not need to be told that the situation was as bad as could be. It had been a long while since he’d fucked up like this.

“No excuses, 007.” M’s voice was very cold, but it was warmer than his eyes as he stared Bond down.

“I wasn’t going to offer one,” replied Bond, his words coming out in a flat drawl. “Sir.”

The tense face-off inside M’s office was a familiar one. They stood there, with M’s hands on his hips and Bond’s in his pockets. Bond’s gaze was icy, giving nothing away as usual while M glared at him. Such scenarios between them were a dime a dozen, occurring at least every other time they met up, Bond reasoned.

The sharp edge to the argument that they were about to have was quite new, though. While they may both be Alphas, Bond could not recall ever arguing with his superior over issues involving Omegas, much less Omegas that they happened to work with. Bond could sense trouble ahead— deep trouble— yet he found himself unable and unwilling to back off as they were about to lock horns. That was the trouble with their kind, especially when protective instincts were roused.

And Bond found that he did not like the notion of M being all protective and proprietary over Q. At all. He knew that M did not mean it _that_ way, with Q. Nevertheless, what gave the man the fucking right?

And now here it came. The Lecture.

“So what was that all about at Q branch?” M wanted to know, and Bond found himself bristling at his boss’s tone.

“From all appearances,” said Bond, lips stretching in a faint, mocking smile, “not what you think, sir.”

Even now, he still could not bring himself to say out loud that he’d been taken by surprise.

M raised his brows at him. “Consider yourself lucky that Q has refused to file a complaint against you,” he said. “Even though several others saw what happened.”

“He knows I meant no harm,” replied Bond, yet even as he said it, he knew himself to be a liar.

The truth was, he did not know what he’d meant to do back there.

The discovery of Q’s heady scent and what it heralded had thrown him completely off course. He’d stared at Q— _his_ Quartermaster— in stunned disbelief the entire time the man had been talking, walking him through his equipment.

It was unmistakable— the rich, ripening aroma of an Omega peaking, about to enter a heat. Bond estimated he had no more than two weeks, then Q would be ripe and ready for the taking.

 _His_ Q, Bond had thought incredulously, staring at this man whom he’d known for years and whom he was quite fond of. All those months of banter and teasing that had come dangerously close to flirting. He’d always enjoyed Q’s company, their strange, sparkling chemistry. How had he never suspected this?

And since when had he started considering him as _his_ Q?

That ought to have been warning enough, Bond realized now.

He’d not expected the flood of pheromones in response to that siren song of a scent. It had been a while since he’d shared a heat with anyone, much less an Omega.

And then Q had lifted his head and seen Bond’s thoughts written all over his face, the hunger fierce in his eyes and whatever control he had drawn thin in the harsh line of his mouth.

That control had snapped the moment Q’s eyes widened. For a second or two, the Omega had surged forth in those green depths as Q’s eyes darkened; the way his words had trailed off in a small, soft gasp. All in response to him.

_Oh._

And Bond—all he could do was lean forward, hands gripping the table before him, eyes closing as he took a deep breath in, savoring that wild, primal scent that was like a key to the locked, primitive portion of his brain, unleashing reflexive responses as old as time. He would have lunged forward had it not been for the troublesome piece of furniture between them. He’d opened his eyes and seen Q, trying to keep the table between them, Q’s equally feral gaze completely set upon him, and _sweet bloody Christ,_ he could see that Q wanted him, too—

_No._

He’d watched Q’s beautifully shaped mouth forming around the word though curiously he did not seem to hear it. Then Q had bolted and without thinking, he’d shot out an arm, catching Q effortlessly as he was rounding the table to streak past him.

Caught in the impetus of Q’s flight, they had spun together in an arc before stumbling into each other, Bond’s arms momentarily full of the warm, fragrant body of an Omega and he had realized he’d gone on for far too long without one. It had been glorious, utterly glorious as he sank his nose into Q’s hair, close to his ear where the scent glands were and just breathed, and breathed.

He had turned his head and suddenly discovered a hand clamped brutally over his nose and mouth. Q had used both hands, actually. With the scent briefly cut off, reason had come flooding back, along with his hearing, to find Q flushed and panting, his arms trembling with the effort to force him back, inch by slow, painful inch.

Q’s voice had been harsh but firm despite the effort it took for him to pry himself off Bond: _“007, stand down!”_

 _Bloody hell_ , Bond had thought. He had let go, instantly, and Q had torn himself out of his hold and ran, leaving him stunned, slumping down onto the table as his legs had given way beneath him.

So, yes. He’d fucked up big this time.

“You could have told me,” Bond muttered, and he was acutely aware that he sounded every inch the arsehole that he was for every word that came out of his mouth.

clearly, M was not going to let the golden opportunity pass.

“You have no authority,” he said, careful to enunciate each word. “None.”

“I want to help,” Bond pressed on. “I’m…he’s a friend.”

“It would be best to let Q decide that,” said M, moving now to dismiss him. “Although if I were you, Bond, I would stay in my lane. You’re not what he’s looking for.”

There went the green monster again, rearing up at M’s words and tearing at his insides.

M watched him, his gaze turning wry with understanding as he watched Bond struggle with himself. “Q doesn’t need a partner for a mere romp or two in bed,” he continued. “He needs—”

“A bonding mate,” finished Bond, suddenly understanding. “His medications have failed then.”

M merely looked at him from beneath his brows. “It would be best that you remove yourself from his vicinity for the time being while he sorts things out. Therefore, Slovenia. The change in scenery would do you good, give you the shift in perspective you so need.”

Boss or no, Bond would have given much to land his fist in M’s face, just this once.

“Don’t worry,” said M, already studying the next portfolio on his desk. “He’ll still be here when you get back. Maybe by then he’d feel better, enough to want to talk to you again.”

M glanced back up when Bond made no move to leave. “He doesn’t want to leave so he’s not going to, if I have any say at all in the matter.”

For the first time since he came into M’s office, Bond relaxed enough so that his smile, when it came this time, was quite genuine. “Sir.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here is the next chapter! Please don't mind M being officious, he thinks he's just doing his job, getting into Q's hair like that. It's hard being an Alpha sometimes, there's just no way he could draw the line somewhere. XD Anyway, I hope you enjoy! Drop me a line, if you like!

* * *

He jerked awake at 3:34 am, hot and sweaty and still in the throes of the dream.

It had been so vivid, the sensations so real, that Q could almost feel the imprint of hard fingers lingering on his skin. 

Groaning aloud, he glanced away from the digital clock perched on his bedside table, its numbers glowing blue, floating disembodied in the cool darkness that surrounded him. For a while, there was only the sound of his heartbeat, drumming loud in his ears, and his panting breaths, rapidly subsiding. He still felt feverish, though, and he was too tired, too irked to grope for the thermometer to actually check and confirm what he already knew to be fact.

Except for drying him up to the point of leaving him with a raging thirst in the past few days, the combination drug regimen was failing.

He would have known it just by the dream that left him high and dry and aching. It had been arousing and filthy as only Bond could make it whenever he managed to traipse unbidden into Q’s subconscious. It had also been unexpectedly sweet, spurred on no doubt by that one moment of insanity days ago when Q had ended up in Bond’s arms, the man’s face buried in his hair.

Once the shock had faded, the memory of the incident had become a reluctant favorite of his. He’d found himself going back to it again and again, especially with 007 safely away in Slovenia.

Bond was a menace, he’d told himself repeatedly. And no, his constant replaying of the incident in his mind was not an indication that he missed him.

He should be angry with him— angry and affronted that Bond would think so little of him. In fact, it was clear that Bond had not been thinking at all. He’d suddenly switched to full Alpha mode and had snatched him into his arms in full view of everyone at work.

Who the hell ever did that?

Yet try as he would, Q could not bring himself to be angry, or affronted. In those first moments within Bond’s arms, he’d been neither. Instead, he’d found himself leaning onto Bond, eyes drifting closed at the heady Alpha scent of him, his chin tilting up of its own accord to expose more of his throat in an entirely Omega gesture of submission, of surrender.

That was the truth, god help him. There had been that one moment of pure instinct before reason had kicked in, finally spurring him to action. Now, he could not scrub it clean from conscious memory. He did not know what was more distressing: his Omega reflexes kicking in, or his inability to feel shame and mortification for having submitted, however briefly, to Bond.

Or for having dreams of being shagged senseless by the man, for that matter.

His breathing had returned to normal now, though he still felt uncomfortably warm. And he ached in a place deep inside where he could not reach— an emptiness seeming to cry out, begging to be filled. Outside, he was rock-hard.

 _Fuck you, Bond,_ he thought bitterly as he gave up the futile struggle to rein in his raging body. It was time to stop thinking.

He moved a hand to palm himself roughly through his pajamas. It felt good. Any kind of touch felt good right now.

This was going to be fast. He could tell as he turned to huff against the pillow. With the dream very much still with him, he was already halfway there. He slid his pajamas down, enough so he could grip at his stiff, aching cock with one saliva-slicked hand. His other hand stroked at his hole, sensitive and throbbing, his fingertips growing wetter as the seconds passed before they dipped into his body. There on the bed, on his knees with his head turned to one side against the pillow, thighs spread wide, he presented himself the way he had done to Bond in the dream.

 _Fuck me,_ he had entreated Bond. _Please._

 _With pleasure_ , Bond had growled.

It was easy to lose himself in the dark, to merge dream and reality so that he envisioned Bond behind him, sliding his thick cock into him, growling endearments in his ear as they fucked in a jagged rhythm, crude and urgent and utterly wonderful.

He came within minutes to the imagined feel of Bond’s teeth scraping teasingly along the swollen glands on his neck before sinking in for a full bite.

Panting, he subsided in a boneless heap, his fretting mind hushed, too blissed out for the time being to mind the mess he’d made on the bed, his pajamas. He needed this, needed to take the edge off the frustration that was steadily mounting within him until he felt like he was at breaking point.

More than anything right now, he needed to calm down enough to sleep.

He had a full day ahead, beginning with an early appointment with Dr. Wang at Medical.

* * *

“The regimen isn't working,” Dr. Wang said without preamble as he sat before her in her sterile, white office. She waved a hand at his latest laboratory results spread out before her. “Your hormone levels are still rising. Your heat is due to arrive in a week, give or take a few days. I would suggest we call off the meds altogether at this point and save your liver and kidneys the unnecessary overload.”

Q wet his lips. He could feel the dry, cracked flakes of skin against his tongue. “But the drugs have helped with my scent,” he said. “And I don’t feel as wet…I didn’t have to use a pad…”

He paused, face flushing at the things he had to divulge because of this fucking condition of his.

Dr. Wang eyed him sympathetically. “You’re too dry, if anything,” she said. “Almost dehydrated. I would say it’s not worth it in the long run.”

Q bit his lips to hold back the words that threatened to spill from his tongue. He would very much like to tell her that it’s damn worth it, not having to go around, worrying you might suddenly squirt in your pants.

“What do you propose we do, Doctor?” he finally said, when he was better able to arrange his words along more diplomatic lines.

“I’d say you make yourself as comfortable as you can and prepare yourself for your heat, young man,” said Dr. Wang. “Take your leave of absence, and when the time comes, have somebody at hand to help you through it. You do have someone, don’t you?”

“Yes,” he lied. “Of course.”

“Good,” said Dr. Wang, nodding. “It won’t do for you to go through it alone, given your long period of abstinence.”

“What’s going to happen if I do go through it alone?” Q asked cautiously. “Am I going to combust spontaneously, perhaps?”

“Let’s just say it won’t be pleasant,” Dr. Wang replied. “So file your leave. M would understand. In fact, he would expect you to step back from your duties until this is done. It will just take a few days.”

Q sighed. “I don’t suppose there is anything else that could be done about that.”

“It’s not the end of the world, you know,” Dr. Wang said.

 _It is to me,_ Q did not bother to say out loud.

“Are there any other concerns, Quartermaster?” she continued. “If not, I shall submit my daily report to M.”

Q shook his head, _no._

It was a relief to leave Medical, yet if he thought that things could not get any worse, or any more humiliating, he was to be proven wrong as the day had not yet officially started.

* * *

It was not every day that M would drop by Q branch unannounced, so the distinct ripple that ran through the minions as he made his way in was almost a palpable thing. Q only had time to come out of his office to greet him before M was striding in, waving aside all formal pleasantries.

“How is everything?” he asked.

Q cleared his throat. “Everything is fine, sir,” he said.

 _As you can see, nothing has caved in yet,_ he thought.

“I received Dr. Wang’s daily report,” said M. “I trust you have started endorsements with R?”

“Yes, sir.”

“And you’ve made the necessary arrangements for the coming week?”

The heat, he meant.

“Well, yes,” said Q. “I have, sir.”

“Who’s your partner?”

Q blinked. “I…pardon?”

“Your partner, Q,” repeated M. “For the heat. I trust that they have been properly vetted? I’ve not received a report.”

“That’s…I mean, yes.”

M stared at him, eyes narrowed. “You don’t have one yet, do you?”

Q flushed painfully. “He’s…I’m still in the process of looking into him,” he admitted. “I’m due to have dinner with him tonight. These things take time--”

“We don't have time. It’s much too late now to—”

_“I’m trying.”_

The startled silence that followed threatened to stretch on until Q mumbled, “sir.”

M slowly removed his hands from his hips. “You know we can’t take chances with your security,” he said. “That’s the only reason why I asked.”

“I know, sir.”

“In case you can’t land a proper partner when the time comes,” M began.

 _Oh god,_ thought Q, completely mortified, wishing he could somehow just melt away and not hear the rest of what M had to say.

“Some agents have volunteered to fill in,” M continued.

_“What?”_

Q stared at M before continuing, “Is that…is that even allowed, sir?”

“They volunteered because we have a developing situation and a contingency plan is necessary,” M clarified, “although obviously I can’t stop them from making their own decision, just as I can’t stop you from making yours. But given that you may not find a suitable partner of your choice in time, and given that your personal security is a sensitive, high-priority issue, I would recommend that you think long and hard about this option. It is far from conventional, and if it leaks out, we’re all buggered, but these are our own people. You know them, and they all consider you as a friend.”

“So you’re not averse to me doing it with our own agents.” Q felt his throat had closed. It took some effort for him to breathe, much less form words.

“This is an extraordinary situation, and they’re all professionals,” said M. “What’s more, they’ve all done this before in the field, assisting Omegas in heat. They’re not going to let your heat go over their heads, and so long as you do not lose sight of the point of this entire exercise...”

In short, there would be no bonding. This was just something to tide him over, get him back on track faster. Still...

Q made to cross his arms over his chest. For a moment, words failed him entirely. He looked down at one hand, fingers tapping a rhythm on an elbow as he struggled for calm.

“And who are these agents who have so generously offered their services?” he asked next.

“006, 009,” replied M. “And 007, who’s on his way back from Slovenia with a sprained knee this afternoon.” 


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter where things get complicated! Enjoy and do let me know what you think!

* * *

Bond arrived in Q branch just before the end of the day, catching Q just as he was preparing to leave.

“Got holed up in Medical,” he said by way of explanation, smiling as Q cautiously set his messenger bag back down on his table and waved away a minion preparing to step in.

“Ah, yes,” murmured Q, gaze carefully averted as he busied himself with clearing away the papers on his desk. “The knee. Bad fall, was it?”

Bond shrugged. “It happens,” he said, watching Q closely. “How are you?”

“Fine,” said Q as he licked at lips that were too dry. “As you can see, I’m fine, 007.”

He did not look fine at all, that was plain to see. Apart from the dry, cracked lips, there were dark circles under his eyes, visible behind the glasses. He looked worn out, his scent ruthlessly under control. From where he stood, Bond could not detect any trace of it at all, yet he knew just how much it was costing Q to suppress it.

“If that’s the only reason why you’ve come, I’d suggest we pick up the conversation again tomorrow,” Q pressed on as Bond remained silent. “I’ve got to be somewhere this evening.”

“I’ve come to return the equipment,” Bond finally said.

Q nodded. “Give it here,” he said.

“And to apologize for what happened between us last time,” continued Bond as Q bent over his equipment, expertly taking apart his gun and inspecting the tracker hidden in his watch. “If I frightened you—“

Q snorted, green eyes sardonic as he peered up at Bond. “Did I look like I was frightened of you, 007?”

Bond smirked. “No,” he said. “Not really.”

“That’s the problem, actually,” sighed Q. “Well, everything seems to be in order. You don’t have to wait while I log the stuff in. You may go.”

Bond set his hands on the table. “Listen,” he said. “In case you need someone to talk to, about all this.”

Q bit at his lip, then said softly, “Actually, I have a date later, Bond. So you need not worry about that point.”

Bond straightened up. “Oh,” he said.

“But thank you,” said Q stiffly. “Your concern is noted. Along with 006 and 009’s.”

“Well,” said Bond after a moment, taken off guard by Q’s comment. “That’s to be expected, I suppose.”

“Is it?” Q said as he regarded him with a kindling eye. “I didn’t realize I was the subject of so much discussion between you and M. Apparently, I was the last to know that you’ve all worked out some sort of plan involving me and my condition.”

“It was all rather abrupt,” conceded Bond. “If we’d only known—”

“Yes?” said Q, eyebrows raised. “Finish it, 007. If you’d known all along that your Quartermaster is an Omega? Then what?”

“Dammit, Q,” Bond said, almost growling. “All I meant was that we’re here to help you.”

“By getting me laid and knotted?” Q said, smiling frostily. “How very generous of you, Bond. I didn’t realize my position warrants such perks and privileges.”

“It’s all up to you, of course,” said Bond. “If you’ve already chosen a trustworthy partner, then that’s wonderful. Mission accomplished.”

“At the rate you’re all going, I might even consider a foursome,” said Q flippantly. "Wouldn't that be fantastic."

Bond felt his mouth twitch. “Q…”

“As things stand, I may not even need one, thank you very much, and I don’t think it’s within your—”

“No,” said Bond, shaking his head.

Q blinked. “No, what?”

“Choosing not to have a partner now, when you’ve not had a proper heat in almost ten years,” Bond replied. “Don’t do that.”

Q flushed angrily. “I see,” he said. “What else has M told you?”

Bond shook his head. “Only that the heat suppressants have all failed. Q, it’s not your fault. You don’t have to go about it as though it were—”

“The end of the road for me?” Q said. “But it is, unless I find someone to bond with, and soon. I’m sure M has already briefed you on that as well. So while I’d appreciate your kind offer, I don’t think it wise to start something between us that’s not going to have a middle, or an end. Besides, think of the complications it will pose for our work, Bond.”

“Your date,” said Bond, striking out at another angle. “Can you trust him to be the one to help you through your heat?”

“That’s what I’m aiming to find out tonight,” replied Q.

“You don’t seem to know him all that well. If he’s not good enough then my offer still stands,” said Bond stubbornly.

“For Christ’s sake, Bond,” snapped Q, his patience at an end. “Why do this?”

“Because I like you, Q,” Bond snapped back. “I always have. As if you’ve not noticed all this time.”

“Enough to want to sleep with me?” Q shot back. “No. Don't answer that. I don't want to have to unhear anything that ought not to be said in the first place.”

“It’s not the first time I’ll be handling something like this and you know it,” Bond pressed on relentlessly. “At least you’ll be safe with me. That I promise.”

“M did bring up that point about your experience, yes,” Q said, unmoved. “Now, if there’s nothing else, I believe we’re done. Have a good evening.”

“You’ll take care, won’t you?” Bond could not help but say as Q brushed past him. “Have a gadget ready on you just in case things don’t turn out well with this one? Or give me a call if--”

Q gave him a withering look. “Is it just the Alpha in you talking, Bond, or do you really think so little of me?” he said.

“I just want you to be safe,” argued Bond. “At this point you’re well along your way to your heat. You shouldn’t even be out, seeing people. Is it unreasonable of me to be concerned?”

“You’re being ridiculous, Bond.”

“Are you doing this merely to drive home the point that he’s your choice and not mandated? Do you really think that would make him a better candidate?”

Q said nothing at that, his mouth pressed in a thin, pale line of outrage even as his eyes blazed a fiery emerald. Then, carefully, he said, “we were done five minutes ago and I wish we could have left things there. And now, no more as I’m going to be late. Good night, Bond.”


	5. Chapter 5

**Author's Notes:** Oh wow, the Muse has been weird lately. She was no show for a few days and quite suddenly, there's a word dump-- enough for a chapter-- in the span of a few hours! Posting twice in a week is a bit of an achievement for her, lol, and maybe not something she'd be repeating soon. That said, I hope to have time to finally lay down the foundations for my Mini-Bang 00Q fic! 

I'm not sure if Omegaverse has a proper term for the attachment process between Alpha and Omega, but I just termed it "latching on" here.

Enjoy and do let me know what you guys think! The Muse adores hearing from all of you, as always! XD

* * *

He did not know how it happened, how he’d ended up calling Bond.

Honest to god, he’d meant to call Moneypenny. After all, she was the one who’d introduced him to Richard, that bastard.

Given his job and the level of security clearance that came with it, it wasn’t easy for Q to date just anyone. And while Six was swarming with unattached Alpha agents, Q knew virtually none outside of work. Normally, he would have considered Grindr or the other apps if he were just looking for a casual shag (not that he’d had plenty of opportunities to indulge), but these sites were off limits to him when it came to something as monumental as sharing a heat, and how much more if he were looking for a bonding mate, at such short notice.

He knew he should have put his back into the issue a long time ago and invested more time and effort in procuring a mate, but his natural shyness and introversion had added to the difficulty of finding a suitable Alpha. Almost all his friends, including past boyfriends, were Betas, and the few Omegas he was acquainted with were all safely and happily bonded, with no unattached Alpha friends to spare.

So he’d put his heats off and stopped even considering them for a while. It had not been that hard, especially when the suppressants had still been working. The last time he’d bothered to share a heat with an Alpha had been during university, almost a decade ago. Latching on— the task of getting to know his partner enough to want to sleep with him— had been tiresome and laborious, and the sex, when they’d finally got down to it, had been farcical, disastrously messy and just one grade above making love to a Beta.

The much-touted state of arousal had made his mind fuzzy, but contrary to expectations, he’d not been that turned on not to notice how his partner had drooled all over him at one point. In fact, the all-encompassing mindlessness that he’d been anticipating had not exactly materialized, leaving him with his razor-sharp faculties quite intact, storing and analyzing every detail of the ridiculous mating process, with a blow-by-blow mental critique of how he’d been handled this way and that, leaving him to conclude that he wouldn’t really miss a thing if he were to skip his heats in future.

But that had been ten years ago, before his body had chosen to betray him in so spectacular a fashion as to leave him entirely drug-resistant, and wet and desperate like a teenager on his first heat.

It had started out quite well with Richard that evening. They’d met over a week ago for drinks and Q had thought well enough of him to accept his next invitation for dinner. For an Alpha, Richard wasn’t all that big and intimidating. He was tall and slender, charming and confident without being too bold. Most importantly, he’d been properly vetted and had come with a glowing recommendation from Moneypenny.

After the explosive argument with Bond, he’d been so determined to make this thing with Richard work. He’d laughed at his jokes and flirted with him over good pasta and red wine and afterward, when Richard had suggested that they have additional drinks at another place, he’d accepted.

In the taxi, Richard had made his move and Q, nerves still frayed from his encounter with Bond, had allowed it to happen. He’d let this man kiss him. This had been the entire point of the evening, after all, hadn’t it? To see if they were compatible enough to fuck?

Yet once again, he’d found that his mind wouldn’t shut down. He couldn’t lose himself in the kiss, couldn’t abandon himself to Richard’s scent the way he’d done so effortlessly with Bond. He’d been too aware of the texture of Richard’s mouth, rough and urgent against his own and he’d felt too dry, even with Richard’s ardent, wet tongue in his mouth.

He’d broken the kiss to gasp raggedly, _“wait.”_

“Oh, baby, why when you’re obviously so ready for me?” Richard had muttered as he planted sloppy kisses down the side of Q’s face, his neck. “So fucking _ripe_. Do you even know what you do to me? You want me, don’t you? Want me to take you. God, I’ve wanted to, every single minute during dinner. Let me have your heat, I’ll take care of you.”

“Not here,” Q had ground out, hands scrabbling on Richard’s shoulders as he tried to push him away. “Not like this.”

“My place, then,” Richard had replied, hotly tonguing the side of Q’s neck, where the glands had started to swell.

 _“No.”_ Q had jerked back just in time as he felt Richard’s stinging nip on his neck.

It had happened so fast. He’d not even thought to use the stun pen that he’d carried with him. His open palm had swung in an arc and connected sharply with the side of Richard’s face, stunning the man enough to have him loosen his grip over Q’s writhing form.

“Sorry,” Richard had gasped, a hand over his ringing ear. “I’m so sorry.”

But Q had already backed away into a corner and barked an order for the taxi to stop. He’d shot out of the cab as soon as it had done so, slamming the door on Richard’s face while he was still talking, forming words of entreaty. Q had been ready to bolt down the road if Richard had decided to come after him, but the cab had pulled away as soon as he’d closed the door, leaving him breathless and shaken on the pavement, silently thanking the cabbie for being on his side.

And that had been that.

Now here he was, stranded on a pavement along a busy street. He had to get himself home somehow.

Trembling like a leaf, he scanned the neighborhood. He wasn’t sure where he was— probably in Chelsea from the look of the well-heeled stores and cafes around him. He ought to hail a ride, but he was only too aware of his scent and he could not risk having an unfamiliar driver take him anywhere while he was like this.

So he’d tried to call Moneypenny, fingers flying automatically over his phone, punching in a number even while his mind struggled with the numbing shock. At least he thought it was Moneypenny’s number until his call was picked up and a familiar voice answered, low and throaty.

“Bond.”

Q felt the breath punched out of him as he stared at his phone with wide eyes, but he could hear Bond continue to speak down the line.

“Q,” Bond said. “Are you alright? Where are you?”

“Bond,” he finally replied as he brought his phone back to his ear. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call y—”

“Where are you?” Bond repeated, voice gone dangerously still and quiet.

“Umm…” Q swallowed and looked around for a sign. “King’s Road, I think. I—”

“There is a café tucked around the corner, the Mona Lisa,” said Bond. “Look for Rosemary. Stay there. I’ll come and get you.”

“No. Wait, Bond—”

He’d already hung up. 

_Fuck me,_ thought Q, aghast.

He briefly considered just walking away and disappearing down the nearest Tube station but thought better of it as he caught a few passersby eyeing him curiously. Apart from his disheveled appearance and the pouring sweat, his sharp, tangy scent of distress was evident even to himself.

He went into the café.

* * *

Fortunately, Rosemary was a Beta. He could tell immediately from the way his scent did not bother her at all. As for himself, he could smell his stench a mile away.

She very kindly showed him a place in a corner of the café and a steaming cup of Earl Grey was placed before him in no time.

 _Bond_ , he thought, senses still reeling.

What was he doing, calling Bond without even being aware of it?

He finally managed to call Moneypenny.

“That shite!” she exclaimed as Q told her what happened. “Q, I’m so sorry.”

“You’ve got nothing to be sorry for,” he said. “Bond was right. It’s much too late for me to be seeing people now. I’m so close to—”

“Wait,” Moneypenny said. “Bond?”

“I know,” said Q heavily. “After what happened days ago, he came by today and we got to talking. Well. Arguing, actually. I don’t know, Eve. You’d think after everything that’s happened between us…”

“Are you alright, love?” Moneypenny said. “You said you’re in a café. Good move. Should I come and get you?”

“Well, he’s coming,” Q replied rather haplessly, with a brief tilt of his eyes heavenward.

“Who, Bond?” Moneypenny said incredulously. “Jesus, Q.”

“I don’t know how I ended up calling him,” said Q, despair making him rush his words, “when all along, I meant to call you. Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?”

“Oh, Q,” said Moneypenny, her voice very soft, hesitant. “Have you ever considered—”

“No,” Q cut in hastily, because it had apparently crossed his mind as well. “No, I’m sure that’s not it.”

“—That you may have already latched onto your Alpha?”

 _No,_ he would have wanted to say yet again, but he could not seem to get his voice out as his heart lurched painfully at the sight of Bond, pulling the door open and stepping into the small café. Bond, in a well-cut, dark coat and that sharp, pale gaze briefly scanning the place before it landed entirely on him.

That was when Q finally allowed himself to admit that he was quite fucked.

* * *

Aaand here's the [**teaser**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/post/612303490074689536/teaser-for-ch-6-of-my-00q-omegaverse-fic-at-fever) for the next chapter! XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter! It's longer than usual and required more work, but it's important for Bond and Q to have That Talk before all hell (or heaven, ehehe) breaks loose! I hope you enjoy, and of course, the Muse and I always adore hearing from you guys! Cheers!

* * *

Bond wasn’t having a very pleasant evening.

It had been a while since he’d felt like this— all hot and bothered, impossibly restless. Normally, he would know what to do: go out and have a nice dinner with someone, and then spend the night with that someone. He’d be sure to put his back into making love so that it would be quite phenomenal. It was either that or a few hours in the gym, working his arse off, then the firing range at Six until he could no longer feel his arms and his mind.

Except that these tried and tested formulas were not going to work in this case, and he knew it.

There was, after all, very little to be done when the cause of his simmering agitation was sheer, unadulterated jealousy. For someone quite used to having his way and taking what he wanted, this particular disappointment went bone-deep for Bond. The feeling was so visceral and quite devastating whenever he thought of Q, having dinner with some other Alpha at this very moment, with the expectation of having mind-blowing sex with that Alpha before the night was over.

And _fuck_ , what if Q’s heat suddenly kicked in while he was with this Alpha? Based on his scent, Q was already on the brink, and all the stimulation he’d been subjected to by different men in the past few days could well tip things over anytime.

And here Bond was, unable to even get close to him.

So Bond had fumed for the better part of the evening and paced, ignoring his knee’s twinges of complaint. Instead, he focused on what ought to be done. He’d briefly considered just calling Q to vent (and also disrupt his evening with his date), but that would be hopelessly juvenile and not worth the damage to his reputation if word ever got around. Alternately, he could track his Quartermaster down and show up quite incidentally at the restaurant with a gorgeous date hanging off his arm, but that was even more infantile and would only worsen the situation he’d already found himself with Q.

He knew this for what it was even if Q were oblivious, or in denial. He was latching onto an Omega, and he knew he’d done enough damage with the verbal tussle he’d had with Q earlier. One more word out of line and he knew Q would bolt and raise all his defenses, and where would that leave him when Q was so close to his heat?

He had to play his cards carefully now. This was where his training and instinct ought to meld smoothly, something that he’d never had a problem with before whenever he was on assignment and tasked to handle delicate emergencies concerning Omegas.

So why this fuck up? He’d fumbled every step of his little dance with the Quartermaster so far.

It was clear that with Q, he needed to up his game and be patient, first and foremost, though it was so damn hard to sit around and do nothing while Q made his selection of a mate from a host of eligible Alphas who were not him, Bond. The thought was nearly intolerable, and as the evening drew on, he’d settled down to numb himself with drink in the dim lamplight of his flat. He was just twisting open the cap on the bottle of scotch that he held in one hand when his phone rang.

Something within him stilled when he saw the caller ID flashing on his phone.

“Bond,” he said, his voice carefully controlled as he answered the call.

 _Fuck_ , he thought. What had happened to Q? It was still too early for him to be done with his date.

There was nothing on the other line for a moment, just a soft gasp, and Bond was off the sofa and snapping into full, angry Alpha mode.

“Q,” he said. “Are you alright? Where are you?”

All the while, he could not help but think the worst. A kidnapping attempt, perhaps, or an assault—

“Bond,” Q finally replied, his voice sounding slightly raspy. “I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to call y—”

“Where are you?”

“Umm…King’s Road, I think. I—”

Bond relaxed slightly at that. At least he was out in the open.

He gave Q orders, curt and succinct, and then he was out of his door and in his car, his movements almost reflexive. The drive took only minutes as he was mere blocks away, though it was enough time for him to realize that Q might not have heeded his peremptory command.

Yet there he sat in the café when Bond entered, talking quietly into his phone. Except for his hair, which was more tousled than usual, he seemed okay. The look that he gave Bond was anything but okay, though.

Bond nodded his thanks to Rosemary before smoothly crossing the small distance to stand in front of Q. He watched as Q hurriedly ended his call and put his phone away. “Are you alright?” he said, voice coming out with just an edge

Q pressed his lips stubbornly together and nodded at the seat across from him. The look that he gave Bond from under his dark brows was familiar enough, reserved for those special occasions at work when Q found him most trying: _Sit down_ _and don’t even think about causing a scene._

Bond sat.

Now that he’d done what he was told, Q’s gaze slid away. He focused instead on sipping his tea and would not look at Bond as he took his fill, beginning with the rumpled clothes, Q’s pale face, his scent— warm and familiar but with a lingering tang of stress and sweat. Then there was the faint but unmistakable mark on his neck which Q tried to hide with a nervous hand.

Q glanced at Bond just in time to see the way his face had set into a hard mask of fury. “I’ll kill him,” he muttered.

Q’s voice was clear, acerbic, like a dash of cold water, grounding Bond. “You’ll do no such thing,” he said. “I’ve already taken care of him.”

Bond lifted a brow. “Oh?”

“I smacked him before leaving him behind in the cab.”

That managed to elicit a small, surprised smile from Bond. Q’s mouth tilted up a fraction and just like that, the ice between them was broken.

“I don’t want to say I told you so,” drawled Bond as he leaned back to lounge in his seat, the tension he would not admit to dissipating from his spine.

“Then please don’t,” Q retorted.

They were settling down to their familiar push-and-pull routine, their little flirtation. How long had this been happening, the way they’d been latching onto each other without their knowing?

Bond gazed at Q and said, softly, “I get it.”

Now that he ought to do a proper job at it, he found words to be clumsy and insufficient in conveying everything he wanted to say: that he understood the vulnerability that heats could bring out among their kind; the seeming betrayal by one’s body as it was taken over by more primal drives— a vestigial reminder of a cruder, rougher nature, like their scent glands and body odour; their sense of smell, absent among Betas, that was highly attuned to these extraordinary factors.

Moreover, Bond understood perfectly how Q prized his intellect and iron will above all else, but he was wrong to equate his being Omega with a total loss of control and the abandonment of common sense once the heat arrived.

Q stared at him, his skepticism clear in his gaze. “Do you, Bond?’ he asked.

“All of it. You have every reason to be wary and careful. The assault rate and the kidnappings, the Omega brothels and private clubs operating not just in some remote third world country but also here, in Britain,” said Bond. “These are all facts. So is Omega slavery in the form of forced bondings. I’m sure you know all this as you have better interdepartmental access to all sorts of government files, more than anyone except M. So, yes. I get it. I know that you think of it as a disadvantage, that your nature is inconvenient, and not worth all the trouble of getting yourself into such a state as a heat. But that’s not how we ought to define ourselves.”

For a moment Q looked like he was about to say something, raise some sort of protest, maybe, but then thought better of it.

“I don’t want to tell you how you ought to spend your heat,” Bond pressed on, “but it’s not what you think.”

He could see the dark brows knitting together and knew that he wasn’t doing a good job of explaining what he thought. “Really?” was all Q said.

“Yes. For one thing, you ought to stop thinking like a Beta.”

Well, fuck. That didn’t come out right, either. But Bond soldered on with what he’d suspected all along, “all your life, I think you're surrounded by Betas who don’t know a fig about Omegas. Or Alphas. The way you’re embarrassed about your scent when there’s nothing to be ashamed of.”

“Been sniffing through my file, have you, Bond?” said Q, his voice very cold. “Except I thought I’ve made sure that accessing my information would be virtually impossible.”

“Well, M didn’t divulge your family information, if that’s what you’re thinking,” Bond retorted, expertly hiding his surprise at being right. “It’s not very hard to come to my conclusion, seeing as how a genius like you could fail to understand and accept yourself so completely.”

For a moment, there was a deadly silence as Q glared at him. “I’m not bothered by my scent as much as what it does to you, apparently. And your ilk,” he finally said.

“I’m not making any excuses for my behavior,” Bond said. “It is for that reason that I want to help, to protect you, now that your options have been pared down to almost none. I want to keep you safe while you work your way through your issues.”

“That’s very noble, Bond,” replied Q archly. “And the weird sex doesn’t factor into your generous decision at all?”

“I didn’t say that,” Bond said simply, truthfully. “And once again, you’re talking like a Beta. It is what it is but it’s not weird at all, once you’re used to it. It can be quite beautiful, intense, when you’re with the right partner. I’d wager most Betas would pay through their noses to have anything quite like it.”

That seemed to shut Q up, leave his mouth slightly open as he gaped at Bond.

“You could have asked me,” Bond said. “I told you that you can ask me anything. I wasn’t mocking you, or patronizing you when I said that. Obviously you’ve got questions that nobody else has the answers for.”

The seconds stretched into a full minute, two. Then, Q said, “everyone has been warning me not to go through it alone when the time comes. I’ve tried looking into it, but the online discussion forums have not been very helpful. Apparently, prolonged abstinence is not commonly practiced.”

Bond shook his head, bemused. _Online discussion forums!_

“I know of an Omega—” he began.

“A past lover?” quipped Q.

“A past lover,” agreed Bond, unruffled, “who managed to skip the heats for three straight years. She described the next one, when it hit, was like a total mental and physical breakdown. That was only three years. I’m not sure what would actually happen after a decade of denial.”

“And you helped her out of it?”

“I did.”

“And?” Q prompted when Bond trailed off.

“It was one of the best heats I’ve ever been fortunate enough to share,” Bond said simply, with no boasting whatsoever. 

Q cleared his throat and straightened in his seat.

“It could be good, you know,” said Bond, softly. “It could be very, very lovely. Just like you. I don’t know why you’d think that’s a bad thing.”

Q twisted his mouth and looked down at his linked hands. Bond could see the color rise to his cheeks.

“Besides, you’re no fool,” Bond continued.

That got him a flash of that irate emerald gaze under unruly dark bangs as Q rolled his eyes at him. “Nice to know you don’t think so. Thank you, Bond,” Q said, dryly.

“I hope you’re not going against your instinct just because it’s pulling you towards a certain direction,” Bond continued, unperturbed.

He had the man’s full attention now. He watched that red, expressive mouth thin ominously, but before Q could let fly a retort, he said, “You should trust your instinct. I know I do. Completely.”

“Even if it’s pointing me towards the cliff edge?” Q said.

“When you get to the edge, you jump.”

Q shook his head. “See, that’s the Alpha in you talking.”

“I’ll be there to catch you. I won’t let you fall by yourself,” Bond argued. “You know my record. I’ve never let any of my Omega partners down.”

“That’s not what concerns me—”

“As for our relationship,” said Bond, reading him correctly once again, “it’s already changed, and not for the worse. So why worry about it?”

Q stared at him speechlessly for a moment before he let his breath out in a soft huff. “These things come so easily to you, Bond,” he said. “I wish I can be like that, forget everything. Discard our working relationship—”

“It doesn’t have to be that way,” Bond argued.

Q looked away. “If we’re to do this, I…I just want to be clear,” he said, “that I’m not…I’m not using you as some sort of convenient Alpha just to get over—”

Bond had to laugh at the term, and after a moment, Q joined in with a reluctant chuckle.

“Convenient Alpha,” Bond echoed. “I don’t think any of my previous partners had ever been so considerate of my feelings. Thank you for your concern, but I think I’ll be alright.”

Q licked his lips. He seemed to have passed a hurdle and was more inclined to talk now. “If it’s really alright for me to inconvenience you,” he said. “Just this once.”

“I want this, Q,” said Bond with quiet emphasis. “Don’t think I’m doing this out of pity or charity. We go well together, I think. To judge from scent alone, we’ll be very good.”

“Of course, I’ve looked at your medical file,” said Q, flushing now, his scent stronger, no longer distressed, as his body warmed up at the conversation.

“I’m clean,” said Bond, “but I won’t mind if you want us to use protection. It’s all up to you, Q. That’s what I want to say. The essence of a happy Alpha-Omega pairing is all about heeding the Omega’s wishes. I’m placing everything in your hands. I’ll only take over when you’re too far out of it.”

Q nodded after a moment. “Okay,” he said. “That’s…thank you, Bond.”

“You’re welcome. So, what do you want to do now?”

“I want to go home, please.”

“Then I’ll drive you home,” said Bond.

* * *

They hashed out the last details in the car.

“Cats?” Bond inquired. “I remember you saying you’ve got two. No pets, as much as possible. You won’t be able to take care of them. And the scent will drive them absolutely—”

“I’ve already entrusted them to a friend,” replied Q, sounding a bit aggrieved. “Christ, Bond, I’m not an idiot.”

“Food and supplies?”

“I’ve already stocked the fridge and pantry. Plus the medical supplies, if it should come down to that,” Q said. “I’ve also filed my leave. Everything has been endorsed at work, so I can actually go easy for the next few days and stop the pills.”

“Well then, we’re pretty much covered,” replied Bond, keeping his eyes on the road as he felt Q’s gaze on him.

“How about that knee?” Q said, hesitantly.

“It’s nothing,” Bond assured him.

Q hummed. “Was it really just a bad fall, or—?”

He could not bring himself to finish, but the insinuation was clear.

Bond huffed out a soft laugh. “Trust me, I’ll need to be on my knees a lot in front of you and behind you when the time comes, so if I need to manufacture an injury just to obtain some downtime, I’d rather it won’t be on this particular body part.”

He did not need to turn his head and look to know that he’d had Q blushing like mad.

He finally pulled up in front of Q’s flat.

“I’m…I’m glad we got to talk, Bond,” Q said as he began his farewells. “It was…rather enlightening.”

“Me, too,” Bond replied, and when he glanced at him, he saw that Q had tentatively extended his hand out in front of him.

He took the hand and had to remind himself to just shake it, not pull the man in and scare the living daylights out of him by—

Yet it was Q who leaned in during the handshake to plant a soft kiss on Bond’s lips. He kept still, seemingly frozen in place, until Q kissed him yet again, light and chaste. Groaning, he leaned in to cup the side of Q’s face with his hand, keeping him in place as he claimed those warm, red lips, effortlessly taking charge of the kiss.

God, Q smelled so good, felt so good, up close. Bond wanted more, so much more, but he did not press it when Q pulled away before he could deepen the kiss.

“Fuck,” breathed Bond. “That was…”

“That’s…” Q began as he licked his lips, tasting Bond for the first time. “It’s a start, at least. For us.”

Bond managed a lopsided grin. “You don’t want us to get straight to the fucking. I quite understand.”

Q scrunched his nose at him. “Language, Bond,” he said as he made to unbuckle his seatbelt. “I thought a bit of an… introduction into that area may help pave the way forward for us. Besides, you deserve the kiss more than that prat, Richard.”

“Is that you date’s name?” Bond asked, casually.

“Don’t even think about tracking him down to settle some sort of score,” warned Q disapprovingly. “It’s over and done with.”

“Fine, fine. I’ll see you very soon,” said Bond, though he’d much rather not let go of Q tonight. If at all.

“Good night, Bond,” said Q, smiling as he got out of the car.

“Good night.”

He watched as Q let himself into the flat. He sat there for a few minutes more, totally winded and smiling at nothing before he started the car and headed home, knowing that sleep would be a long time coming that night.

* * *

Contrary to expectations, he managed to sleep soundly, getting a decent eight hours in before he was roused by the ringing of his phone.

He was having such a lovely dream. He was still smiling when he reached for his phone on the bedside table. His smile only widened when he saw who the caller was. He’d been too busy, too caught up in the moment last night to fully savor the sweet triumph of having Q finally choose him. There was nothing to stop him from enjoying the feeling now.

“Good morning,” he said as he held the phone to his ear, eyes blissfully closed, voice lazy with a hint of a sexy drawl tucked into his words. “Missed me already, I see.”

“Good morning, Bond,” Q replied, his voice stiffly formal. “I…I just realized…I don’t think I managed to thank you, for last night.”

“You did, with that kiss,” replied Bond. “Don’t worry about it.”

Was that all? He thought, his smile stretching into a grin. Such a silly man, to be calling because he might have forgotten to say his thanks.

“Oh,” replied Q, his voice breathy. “Sorry, then. For waking you.”

“Not at all,” said Bond, a faint frown creasing his forehead. “I was just about to get up. Did you sleep well?”

Q made a small sound which could mean anything. “I know I shouldn’t have called so early,” he said apologetically.

Bond opened his eyes a fraction. “Are you alright?” he asked, the grin gradually fading from his lips.

His eyes snapped wide open as Q continued, “it’s just…I think it’s started, Bond.”

* * *

Here's the [**teaser**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/post/613343686391103488/teaser-for-ch-7-of-my-00q-fic-at-fever-heat) for the next chapter! Enjoy! ^_~


	7. Chapter 7

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter, and the start of sexytimes...almost! It got too long so I thought it best to divide the length between Q's and Bond's POV. No worries! We'll get there!! Let's enjoy the journey and please send some love to the Muse, she's bridling at the thought of writing sexytimes yet again! XD

On another note, please take care and stay safe, everyone! Praying the present situation gets better worldwide. 

* * *

When it finally came on, it literally caught Q unawares.

It started around 4 a.m. and he was having one of those dreams again.

It felt more real this time, the textures and sounds so very vivid: the firm, heated flesh underneath his hands, slick with sweat; his Alpha’s warm, moist breaths, panted into the skin of his neck. There were words from his Alpha, murmured through kisses, promising all sorts of filthy things which elicited nothing but eager acquiescence from him.

There he was, pinned beneath a larger, thrusting, muscular body and feeling like he belonged nowhere else, almost weeping from pure relief that they were finally going to get it on. He felt as though he were burning up, fervently welcoming the consummation at hand as he urged his Alpha to go faster, harder.

Only it was not enough, being pounded into like this. It could never be enough to assuage the ravenous hunger deep inside him unless he could have the man doing such brutally wonderful things to him, body and soul.

“I’m glad it’s you,” he whispered against his Alpha’s lips and felt the cruel lines of that full mouth tilt up in a familiar smirk. “It’s always been you, James. Bond with me.”

Q came awake abruptly at that point, his words reverberating through him: _Bond with me…bond with me…_

He found himself face-down in bed, still caught in the rhythm of those phantom movements in his dream as he rubbed himself against the sheets. With a groan, he subsided, face mashed against the pillow, bedclothes damp with sweat. He felt wet and feverish, with a rising feeling of frustration in his chest like nausea.

 _Fuck_ , he thought as he glanced at the time.

He flopped over and lay there for long minutes, hands over his face as he willed his raging body to calm down, to no avail. Next, he tried the toys, so recently purchased, and the porn, carefully selected and stashed away in his laptop and awaiting this day. This was his original plan before Bond came along, anyway. He might as well put it to good use. Yet it became obvious very quickly that the plan was destined to fail as the two techniques combined could only give him fleeting gratification before he was revving up to go again within minutes, each time hungrier than the last.

Was it really supposed to be like this? He wondered uneasily. He couldn’t recall being so bloody ravenous during his last heat. But then, it was so long ago that he’d quite forgotten how it had felt like.

After almost two hours of feeling such breathless, toe-curling dissatisfaction, he abandoned the porn to focus instead on Bond, deep in his head: Bond’s musky, pheromone-infused scent from last night when they’d kissed in the car; the feel of his mouth and the texture of his skin. The man was fantastic. That got Q off faster than any bit of good porn, but after a while, he started to chafe with the vibrator stuck inside him, leaving him irritable and immensely unfulfilled.

Still he trudged on and it was only when something started to hurt low in his belly that the alarm bells finally sounded. Was it the toys? Had he somehow hurt himself? In his research, he’d not come across pain as a major symptom to watch out for and this— whatever this was— promised to balloon into full agony with each breath he took.

He finally managed to call Bond, and some distant part of his brain that had not shut down was stubborn enough to hold onto the farce of being polite and utterly embarrassed as he tried to tell Bond what was happening.

At last, he got through to him by saying, “it’s just…I think it’s started, Bond.”

“Bloody _Christ,”_ snapped Bond and Q almost smiled as he imagined him bolting out of bed. “I’m on my way.”

“Please hurry,” breathed Q, wincing at the spasms. “It _hurts_ , Bond. Is it even supposed to feel like this?”

“Fucking _hell,”_ swore Bond as Q heard him moving about, hastily getting dressed with his phone stuck to his ear. “Okay, I’ll be right over. Just hang on until I get there.”

“Okay,” whispered Q.

He dropped the phone and lay curled up on the sofa, eyes squeezed shut as the nauseating sensations rolled over him. He was sure it took less than twenty minutes for Bond to get to his place, but it felt like an eternity until his doorbell finally sounded. He clicked on his phone to remotely disable the lock downstairs, then the one on his front door.

He managed to sit up, still doubled over, when Bond finally came in, overnight duffel bag in hand.

“Hey,” Bond said, his voice very soft as he came to kneel in front of Q, placing a gentle hand on his knee. “I’m here, let me look at you. Do you think you can take in some fluids? You’re dehydrated.”

Q forced himself to nod after a moment when everything inside him was screaming for him to hurl himself at Bond. He let out a shaky sigh as Bond moved away, returning momentarily with a glass of mineral water.

“Drink. You’ll feel better,” Bond said as he sat before Q with maddening calm, watching him sip at the water.

“More,” he urged Q inexorably, until he was satisfied when Q managed to finish half of the contents of the glass.

“Good,” said Bond. “Now. I’m going to— okay. You’ve read my mind.”

Bond moved to gather him in closely as Q launched himself at him, sinking gratefully into his arms.

“Sshh,” murmured Bond soothingly, running a hand over Q’s wild curls and rocking him gently to and fro like a goddamned infant as he shivered, perilously close to tears. “It’s alright. It’s okay. You’re going to be okay.”

“Bloody hell, what is wrong with me?” Q muttered, head tucked into the curve of Bond’s neck. It felt so good to be held thus, to be enveloped in Bond’s scent, his warmth.

“You’re overwrought,” Bond replied. “Breathe. Just breathe. It will pass. Can you stand up?”

Q nodded. He made to stand, but mostly, he was hoisted up by Bond and held in place by strong arms. The position helped to lessen the pain, somehow. Or was it solely because of Bond?

Q clung to him, nose buried against the curve of Bond’s jaw as he took deep, calming breaths. “I thought I might have broken something,” he muttered.

Bond huffed out a laugh. “Unlikely,” he said, then paused, frowning. “How long have you been like this?”

“Around four hours?” ventured Q tentatively.

 _“Bloody f—”_ snapped Bond before he thought better of it. He stared down at Q in disbelief. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“I didn’t…” Q swallowed, flushing. It seemed stupid now that he thought about it. “I didn’t want to wake you.”

Bond laughed, low and throaty. “You—” he said incredulously, pressing the side of his face hard against Q’s for a moment in affection. “I can see you’re one hell of a stubborn git.”

Q let out a tremulous laugh. “Aren’t I always?” he whispered.

“And still dressed to the nines,” noted Bond as he ran a hand over Q’s back, sweaty and still encased in pajamas. “Not for my sake, I hope? I’d rather you’re not wearing anything right now. It will make things easier.”

“Well, these pajamas are rather uncomfortable,” admitted Q shyly.

“Well, I’ll be sure to get you out of them as soon as possible,” replied Bond, his voice changing, going one octave lower as he dipped his hand down Q’s pajama bottoms to find him soaking wet.

Q shuddered out a sigh. “Please do.”

“You’re burning up,” Bond said. “It might feel crazy for a time when you peak. There’s no going back when things are at fever heat. Q _—”_

“Yes,” Q replied, almost snapping as he moved to lick a stripe up Bond’s neck to illustrate how he felt. God, the man was _delicious._ “Fucking yes. I want you. I’ve already made that clear last night. Now will you please just get on with it?”

Bond needed no further prompting. He let go of all restraint as he claimed Q’s mouth with a growl. Already, his scent was changing under Q’s discerning nose, the light musk giving way to something heavier, more blatantly animal as the Alpha in him broke through and took charge of the searing kiss.

Q heaved against Bond as he felt his mind splinter and give way. Never had he felt the loss of control to be so welcome, so right, as he opened his mouth for Bond to plunder. He tilted his head to the feel of Bond’s fingers in his hair, pulling tight to hold him in place as he exposed his neck willingly for Bond’s lips, the light nip of teeth, down his throat.

Q knew he would never bite, they would never bond. James would never go down that road and that meant he would keep Q safe, even from himself.

Q would just have to take everything else he had to offer.

This had nothing to do with love.

“Fuck me, please, Bond,” Q panted against Bond’s ear as he leaned heavily against him, the urge to rub against his Alpha blotting out everything else. At this point, nothing else mattered except for his need to be claimed, to be made whole, joined to his Alpha in flesh. The pain had gradually dissipated under Bond’s ministrations, leaving him throbbing and pliant and ready, almost melting in Bond’s arms.

“With pleasure,” Bond replied, his smile quite feral as he hoisted Q up so that he had to wind his legs around him as Bond, still kissing him, effortlessly made his way over to the bedroom with his precious burden.


	8. Chapter 8

**Author's Notes:** Hi everyone! This chapter took a while because I had to finish my mini-bang fic AND the Muse was belligerent when it came to belting out the sexytimes in this chapter. It's so way past my bedtime after I finished editing, I just hope it's coherent, lol. Enjoy and do let us know what you think! 

* * *

_God, he’s fucking lovely_ , Bond thought with no small wonder as he cradled the slim and feverish body of his Quartermaster in his arms. He could not help but smile at the way Q was peppering kisses, awkward and ardent, all over his face.

“Ish not funny, Bond,” muttered Q in frustration, lips mushed hard against Bond’s mouth.

“No,” Bond said obligingly, “but you’re bloody adorable, nevertheless.”

Q gave a snort of disbelief. Bond would just have to show him how much he meant it. He was looking forward to it.

He’d shared heats with various Omegas before and he’d helped them through all sorts of unforeseen complications related to the condition, but he did not really know what to expect of Q. From the start, he’d found himself hooked. Perhaps it was because of the way he’d discovered Q’s secret— the complete shock of it sparking an unusual excitement, the suspense of the chase heightened by the lack of time for any sort of preparation.

Still, it seemed most fitting that Q had managed to pull off such a heist for so long, concealing his true presentation within an agency crawling with Alphas. And only he could have pulled it off right under Bond’s nose. Or almost did, anyway. Had it not been for the heat suppressants failing, none of the seasoned agents, Bond included, had ever had an inkling that Q was an Omega.

Bond felt that he should have known from the start, when Q had sat himself down beside him at the National Gallery, but he didn’t. That was how good Q was, how meticulous his cover-up. It would have gone a long way to explaining his occasional absences, especially during Bond’s post-mission debriefings when he’d handled Omegas, leaving R to deal with him, still hormonally charged.

True to form, Q had always given so little of himself away. Apart from his waiflike quality, along with their chemistry which made for a good working relationship right from the outset, there was so little about him to indicate that he was an Omega. He had never been submissive toward Bond, or anyone else. If anything, he’d held his ground, his brilliant mind and his masterful put-downs making mincemeat of overbearing Alpha agents until he’d had them eating out of his hand. With these traits, everyone had assumed he was a solid Beta and had left him alone.

Even now, he’d kept Bond on his toes, his stubborn will holding out right until the very end when he’d succumbed to the onslaught of the hormonal tsunami that raged over his body. He’d worked himself up to such a frenzy and he’d not even known the pain for what it was.

It was costing him so much to suppress his nature. It was time that he let go and allow his Alpha to take care of him.

 _Does that sound so bloody awful?_ Bond would have liked to ask, but Q was now so out of it, panting softly against his neck, his arms and legs clamped around him as he entered Q’s bedroom.

He’d been under Q’s spell since he’d first caught his scent. He’d nearly staggered when he got into the flat; the air was saturated with the smell of sex, of him. It was like a siren song— irresistible, overwhelming, beckoning Bond, wiping away everything from his mind but the need to have this man who clung to him so tightly, who had pleaded for him to fuck him, all pride and shame whittled away.

Bond turned his head to bury his nose in Q’s sweat-damp hair, inhaling deeply.

 _All mine,_ he thought with fierce tenderness.

Aloud, he said, “darling, I need to put you down on the bed.”

Q whined and only clung to him tighter.

Bond laughed softly. “We’ll need to undress at some point,” he said.

He felt Q pause as he considered his words before untwining from him reluctantly. Q settled down heavily on the mattress, arms thrown over his head as he stared up at Bond.

“Fuck,” Bond muttered as he took in the vision before him— not one of submission, exactly, but an offering. “Do you even know what you do to me?”

“What do I do to you?” queried Q softly, his eyes lidded. Already his hands were on top of Bond’s, pressing down as they drifted over his still-clothed body. He guided those large, rough hands down the length of him, arching helplessly against their touch as they found him through his pajamas, wet and aching.

Still, Bond took his time caressing him, enjoying the small, fretful noises escaping those red lips, softly parted. Finally, unable to stand Bond’s teasing a moment longer, Q hooked his fingers over the waistline of his ruined pajamas and pulled down sharply. He let Bond pull them down the rest of the way as he worked frantically at the buttons of his pajama top, pausing only to give a sharp cry at the feel of Bond’s mouth, taking him in and gently suckling him.

“Yes,” said Q rather deliriously, his hands in Bond’s hair. “Oh god, _yes.”_

It was over too quickly. The sound of disappointment that left Q was something between a groan and a howl, entirely embarrassing, as Bond withdrew his mouth from him with a low chuckle. Bond pulled the shirt smoothly over his head just as Q sat up, his nimble fingers working to free Bond from his jeans.

Bond watched him, the fierce tenderness welling within him yet again at the sight of Q, opening him up with all the eagerness of a child with his Christmas present. The sight of his Alpha’s bulge, still encased in dark briefs, seemed to give Q pause.

He lifted his eyes to Bond beseechingly. “Please don’t think any less of me, Bond,” he whispered.

Those words were a surprise, going straight to Bond’s heart like an arrow finding its mark. “Never,” he said, inhaling sharply as Q bent to lick at him through the thin material of his briefs with long, lingering laps of his tongue.

It was too delicious, and they had yet to start.

 _“Oohh fuck.”_ The soft exhalation was punched out of Bond as Q took him out, lips suckling at the flared tip that dribbled pre-cum. He cradled Bond’s length in one hand as he gently teased with his other hand the thick, sensitive band of muscle at the base of Bond’s prick that would swell and knot them together when the time came. “You’re good at this.”

Q smiled wryly at the compliment, as if to say, _I’m no blushing virgin, Bond. Whatever else you may think._

It took Bond a moment to realize he’d yet to get out of his clothes, so enraptured was he of Q’s mouth, nibbling at him. At last he kicked away his jeans, stumbling on the bed as he did away with the troublesome briefs hooked to one ankle before it, too, was off him.

As he sank on the bed, his knee came in contact with something smooth and firm. Lifting a brow, he made to fish the vibrator out from the sheets, only to have Q snatch it away from him immediately, blushing and scowling.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” Bond said, grinning.

Q’s scowl merely deepened as he started to put some distance between them.

“No, no. No sulking. Come here, you,” growled Bond, seizing Q and gathering his squirming form to him as they tussled playfully. They kissed, long and languidly, the hunger burning low with each slide of their tongues, the slow movements of their mouths against each other.

Bond could feel the rising urgency in Q as he stroked his stiff cock and he bent his head to nose along one inner thigh.

“Christ, Bond,” murmured Q, jolting as Bond moved between his legs, tasting his wetness that sluiced down his thighs before trailing his tongue teasingly to its source, and all Q could do was spread his thighs wider.

And bloody hell, Bond could drown in the heady smell of him, so ripe, so ready, as he continued to lap greedily at the hot, wet core of his Omega, plunging his tongue into him to feast on him, reducing him to a moaning, writhing mess above him.

He surfaced to find Q imploring him in broken tones, “now. Oh, now. Please, Bond. _Please.”_

Despite Q’s desperation, Bond could tell he was not ready to present to him. It was too soon and they were going too fast. There would be plenty of time later for that.

“Here, on your side,” instructed Bond as he moved to spoon behind Q, shifting him so that he had one leg slung over Bond’s hip, opening him to Bond’s questing fingers as he lay beside him, his arms flung over his head.

“You’re so bloody beautiful,” whispered Bond reverently as they gazed at each other, Q’s panting breaths landing softly against Bond’s face. His mouth dropped open as Bond aligned himself at his entrance and began his slow, steady push into Q’s body, the feel of him hot and wet, eager for his engorged flesh.

At long, fucking last.

 _“Fuuuck,_ just like that,” breathed Bond as he glided in smoothly, like a hot knife to butter. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Q shivered at the feel of Bond inside him, filling him. “Oh, move,” he implored, gasping at the incredible sensations as Bond obliged.

God, Bond was so big, and growing bigger inside him as they developed a pounding rhythm, urgent, fevered, and like Bond said, fucking perfect.

There were words uttered, ground out through clenched teeth, filthy endearments tucked into breathy moans and the slick sounds of their bodies coming together.

It was all too good; Q could not help but weep. And all the while, the feeling within him rose and rose as Bond claimed him: the hard flesh of his Alpha lodged deep inside his body and his Alpha’s knot, growing relentlessly to scrape against his tender walls. Bond repositioned himself minutely as he continued to thrust into Q, and at the change in angle the feeling soared, taking over as it exploded into orgasm and they were coming together in violent waves, their cries harsh with relief.

Q gradually came back to the sensation of Bond, tightly knotted inside him. He could feel every quiver and jolt of his flesh. He still felt feverish, but his mind was not dulled by it. He dropped his head tiredly into the crook of Bond’s arm as the man leaned in, licking at Q’s face, salty with sweat and tears.

“Fuck,” Bond whispered against the curve of his neck, close to the tender, swollen glands at the junction of his lower ear and jaw and Q merely shivered in pleasure. “That was… _fuck.”_

“I’ll take that as the highest compliment, Bond,” grinned Q as Bond leaned down to kiss him with an open mouth.

“It is. You were so worried, yet your body knew what to do all along,” said Bond.

“I wasn’t—” Q broke off, eyes widening in alarm as a thought suddenly occurred to him, wiping their conversation clean off the table. “Fuck, Bond, _I forgot to notify M!”_

Bond chuckled low in his throat. “I’ve already taken care of that on the way over, don’t worry,” he said, nuzzling at Q’s hair.

“Oh.” Q subsided against him, and his sudden movements had Bond jolting yet again.

“Careful,” murmured Bond and Q could still feel him _coming_ inside him, pulsing, filling him up with his seed. “The knot is still sensitive. Fuck, you feel so good.”

Q smiled as he gave Bond an experimental squeeze, just because he could, and just because he liked the sound of his Alpha, growling into his ear, “Dammit, Q. I swear you’ll be the end of me.”

“I certainly hope not, Bond,” replied Q quite earnestly as he stroked a hand over the side of Bond’s face. “At least not yet. Not for a long while to come.”

* * *

Here's the [**teaser**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/post/615377264271654912/teaser-for-ch-9-of-my-00q-omegaverse-fic-at-fever) for the next chapter! XD


	9. Chapter 9

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here is the next chapter! Please mind the tags as more omegaverse sexytimes are at hand. You have been warned! Comments are always appreciated. Enjoy! ^_~

* * *

Q was very nearly asleep when he felt Bond shift behind him cautiously, slowly withdrawing from him. The knot had gone done, then. He felt the loss acutely yet he let Bond go, his body sated for the time being, and tried not to give in to the mindless impulse of holding onto his Alpha just because he felt like it.

He could feel gentle fingers raking through his hair, the gesture so familiar and affectionate that he could not help but feel a contraction of the heart. He broke into a wide, drowsy smile as he felt the press of warm lips against his temple and the slide of large, calloused hands down his body, dewy with sweat. From the start, Bond’s touch had been confident and assured. Now, Q could feel an element of possessiveness at the way Bond’s hands lingered over him and he tried not to revel in it. It would be his own fault if he got used to this.

“You’re spoiling me,” he murmured, eyes closed as he breathed in the warm, musky scent of Bond, arousing and reassuring at the same time.

“Always, if I have my way,” rumbled Bond, a smile evident in his voice. “Now, sleep.”

This time, Q did not resist.

* * *

He wasn’t sure how long he was out, perhaps half an hour, perhaps a bit longer. He woke up to find himself hot and grinding against the sheets yet again.

And Bond was gone.

The wretched feeling was rising once more inside him, the overwhelming need to be filled, to fly.

Q waited, trying to still himself from calling out, yet the feeling only expanded until discomfort seeped in. The irritated huff turned into a whine deep in his throat, and before he could stop it, a full-fledged mewl erupted from his lips: _“Bond.”_

It was such a miserable, needy sound, Q thought disgustedly, yet it did the job. He felt rather than heard Bond’s footsteps, heavy vibrations on the wooden floor. He came in, bearing a steaming mug and a glass of water which he carefully set down on the bedside table. Q watched him, torn between raging need and helpless amusement at the sight of Bond, naked and hands busy with drinking vessels. 

“Laughing at me, are you? Here,” said Bond as he lifted the glass to Q’s lips.

Q drank gratefully, loving the coolness that sluiced down his parched throat to dispel the heat of the fever that gripped him.

“Wasn’t laughing at you,” replied Q when he was finished. “You just looked so… domestic, fetching drinks for me. Thank you, Bond.”

“Your servant, sir,” said Bond obligingly, settling down in bed as Q made to crawl eagerly into his arms.

“Where were you?” Q couldn’t help but complain as he rubbed against his Alpha, all over. Nestled against Bond, he felt better instantly. “It seems like you’ve been gone a while.”

“All of twenty minutes,” answered Bond, chuckling.

Q’s eyes snapped open. “Twenty minutes?” he said, groaning. “I’ve only been out that long?”

 _Bloody Christ,_ he wondered how he was going to make it at this rate.

“I made some soup.”

“Soup,” repeated Q, feeling as though his brain had turned to molasses.

“I brought some over,” said Bond, indicating the steaming mug on the table. “You must be hungry. What?”

This, as Q started to giggle while he envisioned a naked Bond hovering over the stovetop, heating a can of soup. Or perhaps he used the microwave?

“Later with the soup, perhaps,” Q said as he eyed Bond with a famished gaze. “Right now I’d rather have you.”

“The soup, now,” said Bond firmly, refusing to be derailed. He was smiling though. “Then we play.”

 _“Oh, for f—_ okay.” Q settled back against the headboard with a huff as Bond handed over the mug.

Bond grinned. “Careful, now,” he said as Q grimaced after taking a mouthful. “It’s still hot.”

He watched Q take steady, determined sips. “You’ve got to take in as much food as you can,” he remarked. “While you still can. Before you peak.”

“Appetite’s gone,” said Q shaking his head. “And I feel dizzy.”

“Hypoglycemia,” answered Bond. “Ah, well. I’ll just have to feed you myself, when the time comes. I hope you won’t mind.”

“Why would I mind,” said Q as he set the empty mug back on the table, “when you’re taking such good care of me?”

He leaned his head into Bond’s palm as Bond reached up to touch him. A noise escaped his throat, sounding suspiciously like a purr of satisfaction, of contentment. He was long past shame or embarrassment, though he was still aware that this— everything— had its price. Right now, however, he found that he was more than willing to pay for all of it.

“Does it still hurt?” Bond inquired next, his voice a low, soothing rumble as his hand travelled down Q’s chest to rest on the curve of his abdomen.

“A little,” said Q, closing his eyes to the feel of Bond’s hands on his skin. “There’s this tingling sensation, just beneath the skin. All over.”

“It’s going to get worse,” Bond promised.

“I know,” said Q, leaning forward to take Bond’s mouth. “Make it better, please?”

“I will,” Bond said, his fingers not quite done with their exploration of Q’s chest, the expanse of his torso and the long, graceful curve of his spine. “Christ, you’re fucking beautiful. Why you’d chosen to stay unbonded all this time, I have no idea.”

Q let out a soft sigh as he regarded Bond up close, their lips touching in soft, fleeting kisses.

 _You don’t want to know, Bond,_ he thought. _You don’t want to hear of just how long I’ve sighed over you and longed for you…_

Aloud, he murmured, “Perhaps for the same reason why you’ve held out for so long.”

“Some Alphas opt to remain unbonded their entire lives,” Bond conceded. “It troubles us less to find long-term partners. Omegas though…”

“Can’t we make our own choices for as long as we can do so?” Q argued as he flicked his tongue across Bond’s mouth, coy and teasing. “Now, hush.”

Bond hauled him in, hands implacable, and kissed him with an open mouth, hot and avid. Q could not get enough it, of him. He moved to take Bond in hand and heard his soft growl of approval.

 _Oh, Bond. Bond,_ Q thought as he gazed at Bond’s face, those hard blue eyes growing soft and dark as he continued to touch him.

_All those moments at work when you stood before me, or beside me, talking to me, without a clue as to how I had to rein myself in as I took in your scent. All this time, you still have no clue. You think this is just the heat, and if I have my way I will let you carry on believing it. Because you don’t ever want to know how much and for how long I’ve been in love with you, though I feared you might have suspected by the way I’ve protested too much and too loudly against you. You don’t want this. You can never want this, or me. My heat is just an episode, just like all the others you’ve shared with various Omegas. You’ve got your life to go back to afterward. I have no claim over you, so I shall grant you the favor of never, ever letting you know of these useless, wayward feelings of mine…_

He made up for the words that could not be spoken with his touch, exquisitely light but sure as he moved over Bond’s flesh. Already, he knew enough of his Alpha’s preferences to realize what he ought to do next. He felt Bond stir and thicken in the closed circle of his fist and he leaned down to take the flared head into his mouth, sucking and laving. It was too ambitious to take the entire length in, but Q felt he was doing things right by the way Bond sighed his pleasure, guttural and deep; the way Bond arched toward him, fingers twisted into his hair to guide him.

“Easy there, tiger,” said Bond, grinning, as Q made the bold move of scraping against Bond’s sensitive flesh with his teeth. “Come here.”

Eagerly, Q rose and settled on Bond’s lap. He jerked at the feel of Bond’s questing fingers, rubbing at his wet entrance before slipping in, bold and unapologetic.

“God, you’re so ready for me,” Bond whispered, voice rough with arousal as Q cried out, twisting against Bond’s fingers, urging him to go deeper, move faster.

“Oh, yes,” Q said hoarsely as Bond’s fingers slipped out of him, to be replaced by his cock, nudging at Q’s entrance. “Yes, please. Inside me, Bond.”

Q took Bond’s mouth just as their bodies slid together and locked into place. They moved fluidly, from the rhythm of their kisses to the way Q’s body clasped at Bond as he moved inside him, filling him up.

“Fuck,” Bond grated as he sped up his movements, all but ramming into Q. “You feel so fucking perfect. Just like that. _Harder._ That's it. Take what you need.”

 _And I shall never tell you that you mean the world to me,_ thought Q, heart breaking even as his body rose of its own accord toward Bond, spurred on by his encouragement and greedy for fulfillment. _You can count on me not to burden you with such foolishness._

Instead, Q found himself moaning brokenly, “Bond, Bond…”

“James,” growled Bond as he watched Q’s face, eyes closing in pained rapture. “I want you to call me James.”

Q would have obeyed, only there was not enough time to think, let alone speak.

Release, when it came, was pure, blistering, white-hot pleasure. There might have been words all along, Q was not very sure. He’d tuned off briefly, totally blissed out, drifting back moments later to the feel of Bond, still substantial inside him, knotted in place. He was still on Bond’s lap with Bond's arms wound around him, his panting breaths filling his ears and his head slumped tiredly against Bond’s shoulder.

But there might have been words spoken out loud, yes. Or perhaps he was imagining it all when Bond moved his lips to his ear and he thought he heard him say in low, gravelly tones,

“Q. Fuck, Q. You’re the one.”

* * *

Here's the [**teaser**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/post/616118269101981696/teaser-for-ch-10-of-my-00q-omegaverse-fic-at) for the next chapter! Enjoy! XD


	10. Chapter 10

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter! The heat continues along with the sexytimes, aided and cheered along and teased by the naughty ladies at the 00Q Slack chatroom. Dare I mention names?? Maybe not everyone this time around, but very deep and special thanks to them, to [Chrstinefromsherwood](https://archiveofourown.org/users/christinefromsherwood/pseuds/christinefromsherwood) (this one was especially prolific in terms of her adjectives and scenes!!), [Dart](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dart/pseuds/Dart) and [storm_of_sharp_things](https://archiveofourown.org/users/storm_of_sharp_things/pseuds/storm_of_sharp_things) for coming up with some of the...terms of endearment and the descriptions of accompanying sounds so familiar to alpha-omega matings. The Muse was _skewered_ mercilessly for them, so please be kind! Please mind the tags. I just hope we didn't go over the top with the sexytimes. Feel free to let me know what you think and, as always, enjoy!

* * *

They lay, curled on their sides, momentarily exhausted from their latest bout. As expected, things between them had very quickly escalated and turned demanding, and Bond had lost track of the time, though he supposed it was early evening.

Spooned closely behind Q, Bond watched him, tracking his heat by the rapid rise and fall of his slender frame as the fever climbed steadily. It was relentless, hardly abating despite their efforts so far. Q’s head was pillowed on Bond’s outstretched arm while he gripped Bond’s free hand tightly, their fingers interlaced. This close, Bond could feel the thunderous pounding of his Omega’s heart, reverberating through that hot body to leave its imprint on his own.

And Jesus _bloody_ Christ, the scent of him was enough to drive any Alpha mad with lust.

Bond had been through enough heats to know that Q was on course with his, but this, with Q, was something different, something special in the way it touched Bond. Even before their first coupling, their connection had been intense, merely strengthening by each of their successive joining. This was not just their biological imperative rearing its head, or the sheer mad joy of a heat-induced fucking.

This was Q, taking Bond by surprise every step of the way. 

_Mine,_ he thought as he gazed at Q tenderly. _And from the very first instant, I was yours._

He could never understand how he had never realized any of this before. _How?_

Just then, Q gave a sound, low and throaty, _“Nngghh…”_

Bond could not help but be pleased. “Fuck, Q, I swear, that’s…”

He smiled as he felt Q grip his fingers tighter in warning.

“Whatever that was, it _wasn’t_ sexy, Bond,” Q griped, his voice hoarse from all the ragged cries that Bond had managed to pull from him in the past few hours. Bond had savored each and every one of them.

“Well, it’s adorable, then,” Bond quickly amended as he bent down to lick at Q’s face, delighting in the light shiver than ran through his mate.

“God, is it always like this?” Q queried in disbelief as Bond continued to nuzzle at him, slow and teasing. “It was never like this, before.”

“It’s much better than usual,” Bond assured him.

 _It’s much better than anything I’ve ever shared with anyone,_ he did not say.

“Oh,” breathed Q, eyes squeezed shut as he shuddered and writhed deliciously against Bond. “Oh, fuck. Here it comes again.”

Bond merely hummed against Q’s skin. He knew the feeling— the swelling wave of need, hungry and urgent as his lover’s body gradually worked itself up to another crescendo. As much as he empathized with Q’s struggles, he also gloried in the sheer carnality of it. He was truly privileged to have been chosen by Q to be his Alpha, despite Q’s earlier reservations.

He could afford to be honest about it now: It had hurt like fuck to be Q’s last resort, but Bond could understand Q’s reluctance in taking him on. It was only natural that the Quartermaster would mind having anyone see him like this, how much more if it were one of his agents.

To see him now, spread beneath Bond like this, that brilliant, logical mind stripped down to its primitive, animal core. This lithe, pale body, hot and quivering just beneath Bond’s fingertips, usually encased in its multi-layered armor of cardigan, tie and button-down shirt— formidable, untouchable— now laid bare before him.

Only him.

“Let it happen. Don’t fight it, baby,” whispered Bond, dragging his nose deliberately down the swollen, sensitive glands on Q’s neck to tease him, knowing that Q trusted him enough now to do so.

He felt Q stiffen against him. “What the bloody, actual _fuck,”_ he cried.

“What?” Bond said, startled enough to pause and stare at Q. “I didn’t realize the glands were—”

“You didn’t just call me _that_ ,” snarled Q, utterly revolted. “Of all the _fu—”_

“Oh. Sorry, _sorry,_ ” Bond hastened to say in his most soothing tones. “It’s just…most Omegas don’t mind. In fact, they like it, they ask for it—”

“And in return they get to call you, what? Daddy?” said Q, arousal all but forgotten as he turned to Bond with eyes bright with fever, and also with its usual sparkle of sardonic mischief.

Apparently, the Quartermaster had not yet let go of his faculties enough, Bond thought.

“Well…”

“Oh my god,” said Q as he started to laugh, evidently thinking the worst when Bond gave a brief pause to consider what he’d just said. “Tell me you didn’t _like_ it?”

“Well, I don’t have to call you that, if _you_ don’t like it,” said Bond rather testily. “Though I’d prefer to call you something else apart from Quartermaster right now.”

“Wolf-slash-tiger-slash-lion cub, perhaps?” quipped Q with a raised eyebrow.

Bond smiled and gave a grunt at the oft-used names. “On the extreme end,” he said, helping Q along, “some couples have thought to use predator and prey as their terms of endearment.”

“Ugh,” said Q, dissolving in helpless giggles as Bond nipped lightly at him.

“There are other names, fear not. Darling. Love. Lover,” murmured Bond as he trailed wet kisses down Q’s sensitive nape.

He paused to look Q over when he fell silent, his gaze averted.

“I think I’ll call you lover,” Bond decided after a moment, when the silence threatened to stretch on. “Because you are, now.”

Instead of a reply, Q suddenly reached up to kiss him. “Enough talk, then, James,” he said softly. “I need you to fuck me.”

“With pleasure,” Bond said, roughly taking Q’s mouth.

He felt Q surge against him eagerly, his movements more fluid and sure, very much improved from the initial awkward enthusiasm he had displayed.

“Let it build,” advised Bond as he moved his hands down the length of Q’s body, earning him a low, hungry moan. “You’re not quite there yet.”

“Help me get there,” said Q, lifting their entwined hands to his lips. “Please.”

“You say the prettiest words,” breathed Bond as he watched Q lap at his fingers before taking them into his mouth. _“Fuck.”_

He let his wet fingers trail down when Q was done with them, down, down until they reached Q’s stiff cock. He felt Q’s body seize as he took him in hand and heard his harsh, indrawn breath.

“There, darling,” said Bond, his fingers starting a rhythm as they rolled and squeezed deliciously at Q’s engorged flesh.

“More,” Q whimpered as he began to thrust against Bond’s hand. _“Ungghh_ …I need…”

“I know, love,” murmured Bond soothingly as he worked three fingers into Q without any hesitation or apology, enjoying his tight, wet warmth as Q clenched around his digits. Most of all, he adored the sound he wrenched from Q, a keen of such deep, tortured pleasure.

“That’s it,” Bond growled his encouragement as he worked his fingers in and out, the squelching sound lewd and loud amidst Q’s little hungry noises. “You can take more, can’t you? You want more, so much more than this.”

“Yes,” cried Q. “Yes, please, I _need_ it, Bond.”

“James.”

 _“James,”_ said Q, voice nearly rising to a howl as his body arched in a tight bow in Bond’s arms.

“You’re close, but it’s not going to be enough, like this.”

 _“Fucking no,”_ panted Q as Bond added another digit, fucking him steadily, in and out.

“It’s never going to be enough, but I want you to come,” said Bond. “Come for me. Take your pleasure.”

_“Noooo…”_

With that, Q came, messily, in heavy spurts around Bond’s hand. Bond could feel his contractions, deep inside his burning body.

“Good,” whispered Bond as he milked the last of Q’s pleasure from his body. “You did so good, darling. Just like that.”

He slipped his fingers out as Q collapsed against him. Coated with Q’s lubrication, he set his fingers to his cock, readying himself as he kissed the small of Q’s back, trailing his tongue up the delicate line of his spine. He paused as he felt Q shift against him, pushing him away.

“Q,” he said, puzzled.

Did he really think that Bond would hold off from giving it to him?

A noise suddenly escaped Bond, low and crude, his hand clenching around himself as he went still with the realization. He watched Q arrange himself on his knees before him, the movements very familiar and deeply moving. He felt his breath punched out of him as he watched Q bend down, all sinuous grace, his head pillowed on his arms and his legs spread wide apart, his arse at level with Bond’s groin— an offering, ready for the taking.

Q was _presenting_ to him.

 _“Bloody fuck, Q,”_ he said when he could finally muster words again.

Q turned to him. “It’s about time, don’t you think, James?” he said softly.

* * *

Aaand [here's](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/post/616742419912900608/teaser-for-ch-11-of-my-00q-omegaverse-fic-at) the teaser for the next chapter! XD


	11. Chapter 11

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here are more sexytimes (though possibly some of the last)! It's taken the Muse some time to write it, as usual, and we are also inserting a bit of art in the chapter! Do let us know what you think! For more 00Q art, drop by [our tumblr](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/) and, of course, we'd love to hear from you! Enjoy!

* * *

Except in his dreams, he’d never done this before. Certainly not during his last heat when he’d been too annoyed by his slobbering, too-far-gone Alpha to even consider giving it to him. As for some of his past Beta boyfriends who had been curious enough to ask for it, he’d reluctantly done a half-hearted version of getting on his knees and, when they complained that it was nowhere near their expectations, he’d desisted immediately in a huff and told them off for watching too much bad porn.

It was true about the porn: most of it was quite unrealistic. The Alpha posturing and Omega acrobatics, blatant with submission, were almost comically off-point and designed to titillate Beta audiences. In fact, most of the Omega stunts were done by Beta actors masquerading as Omegas, so they weren’t quite like the real thing. A real Alpha-Omega mating, when done at the peak of a heat, was dark and intense. It could be distressing and at times bordering on all sorts of illegal, especially when there was biting and a bit of bloodplay involved during bonding.

There were authentic videos out there, of course, and some of them were very, very well made, but one always had to wonder how they had been obtained. An Alpha in true rut was deeply possessive of his mate and often too jealous to tolerate others nearby while an Omega in heat was in no condition to give proper consent. Unless they were recording themselves, a third party filming them closely may find themselves in a problematic position.

Still, there were private clubs and Omega brothels out there with special arrangements that catered to a hungry audience, because Bond was right. There were people who would pay through their noses to see and experience this. No matter what they would make of an Alpha-Omega mating, it was more than fucking; it was an entire realm of the senses onto itself. It was like a drug, dangerously addicting.

This wasn’t just the baring of one’s body to a partner, yet Q found himself doing it readily enough, as though it were the most natural thing in the world. He’d barely spent a day with Bond, and already he was sliding onto his knees and presenting himself to him, thighs spread wide, head pillowed on his arms and his lower body tilted provocatively to offer Bond that most intimate way into him.

“Bloody fuck, Q,” Bond growled behind him and he had to crane his neck just to look back. He wanted to see Bond’s face and know what he did to him. He _needed_ to know.

“It’s about time, don’t you think, James?” It came out softly enticing, masking the turmoil of doubt and need that roiled endlessly inside him. He was still so new to this game of playing siren, yet it seemed he was doing things right.

He’d never seen Bond so feral, his gaze fierce and famished. Q felt a wild rush of gladness, of exultation, to find his Alpha on his knees, a hand on his cock and his face savage with lust.

He ran his tongue over his lips, suddenly dry. “What are you waiting for, then?” he husked.

Bond let out a soft curse as he moved in. His fingers made hard points as they sank onto Q’s flesh, roughly exploring, claiming, and Q could only moan as he pushed back against Bond’s touch.

“More,” he implored, shuddering lightly as he heard Bond’s sharp intake of breath. “Please, inside me.”

Bond growled out a breath with a word tucked into it that suspiciously sounded like, _“Mine.”_

Q let out a sobbing breath as he felt his body ripple and flex against Bond’s hands, pushing back, offering itself to him. _“Please.”_

It was enough of an invitation. He felt Bond surge against him, rough hands parting the cheeks of his arse, hard fingertips caressing his opening before he felt the broad, firm tip of Bond’s cock against his entrance. The urgent moan that left him was embarrassing, if only he could still bring himself to feel embarrassed.

_“Come on, James.”_

It came out raw, frustrated, as Bond held back for a few seconds more, teasing him.

“I love it when you’re like this, darling,” Bond said, a smile in his voice. “I’m entirely at your command.”

Q would have smiled back, because how on earth did Bond ever make this so much fun, so full of mirth and laughter? Instead, his mouth fell open on a long, drawn-out moan at the feel of Bond sliding into him in one, perfect glide.

And, _fuck_ , on his knees like this, their hands linked tightly together, he felt Bond filling him, so wonderfully deep; deeper than he’d ever gone.

 _“James,”_ he grated as he felt Bond lean in to cover him entirely with his body.

“Hush, love,” said Bond, his voice low and soothing. A hand reached in to cradle the side of Q’s face, turning him gently to receive Bond’s warm kisses. The slow curl and slide of their tongues mimicked their other movements, growing more urgent and forceful as Bond picked up the pace to ram into Q, again and again.

Through the fever that engulfed him, Q was only half aware of the words that left his mouth, a delirious litany of praises and pleas as he ground back against Bond. _“Good, so good. More, oh, more.”_

“Fuck, Q,” muttered Bond as Q thrust back against him, ruthlessly taking Bond for himself. “Just like that. Take what’s yours.”

Q managed to bite back the words just in time when he caught himself saying, _“Love…I love…”_

“Yes,” Bond purred, his face so close to his neck as Q arched against him.

Bond nosed against the engorged glands, where his scent was strongest, and Q could only tilt his head farther back against Bond’s shoulder, exposing himself to him.

“Do it,” he said, on the verge of mindless ecstasy. “I want—”

He screamed as he felt the scrape of teeth against the sensitive lumps, light enough not to break skin but pushing Q to orgasm, so intense he almost blacked out. It wiped his mind completely of thought, so that for a moment, all he could do was feel, and _feel._

He could feel Bond’s heartbeat almost as though it were his own. He could hear Bond, an echo of his voice in his head as he came, seemingly endlessly, still driving into his body.

Q knew they’d reached the peak then, though it would take some time for them to descend. His body flushed and knotted yet again, finally made complete, his mind blissfully attuned to his lover’s, he smiled in primitive fulfillment to feel Bond lapping at him with his tongue.

“Did we…?” he asked drowsily.

“No,” answered Bond. “That was never in our agreement. Yet.”

Q sighed, closing his eyes as he felt the throb of his lover’s flesh deep inside him. “Thank you, James.”

* * *

Afterward, he was carried to his bath. Q could not remember much, except he kept a tight hold over Bond’s neck, and the water was quite lovely.

Bond was lovely, lowering him carefully into the scented waters before climbing into the tub to settle behind him. Q leaned back onto that broad expanse of chest, savoring Bond’s warmth as he draped his arms over the rim of the tub and just luxuriated over the feel of Bond’s fingers in his hair, shampooing him.

“You’ve got to stop spoiling me,” said Q around a soft giggle as he felt the water’s wondrous effect on his muscles. “What am I going to do if I got used to this?”

“Hmm,” said Bond, his voice a deep rumble in Q’s ears. “I’m just starting, darling, if you will let me.”

“If I would let you,” repeated Q. “What would you do?”

Bond hummed. “I’d like to take you out next time, just before your next heat, perhaps, to a private resort in the Caribbean. Very discreet. We’d be safe there, secluded. Our own private cottage and swimming pool just minutes away from the sea where we won’t ever be disturbed. We can make love out in the open, under the stars. Would you like that?”

“Would that be wise, spending a heat outside the country?” he inquired as he felt his mind floating, disembodied; just like his body, soft and pliant against Bond’s hardness.

“I don’t see why not,” replied Bond. “I’d be there with you.”

Q closed his eyes as a spasm went through him, listening to Bond daydream about a future they could share together.

They were both enthralled, he knew, yet he also knew that it could never be, that Bond was in over his head in the heat as much as he was right now, yet listening to him brought Q as much pleasure as pain. He’d never believe such incredible sweetness to be possible, in a heat, with Bond. It was almost like a wonderful dream. A dream he was not ready to awaken from.

So he would be quiet and let Bond seduce him for now with his talk. When it was all over, he knew he would be hearing differently from the man. Then, it would all be a matter of who made the first move toward logic and common sense.


	12. Chapter 12

**Author's Notes** : Hey everyone! Sooo the Muse took a great deal of time off, but I managed to get this chapter out of her. Apologies if you saw the teaser at tumblr, that would have to be pushed to the next chapter. Aaand now on with the ~~pain~~ show! Do let me know what you think, and enjoy!

* * *

They had three days together. Three days and nights that blended together in seemingly endless cycles of driving urgency and bliss; of ravenous, carnal hunger satisfied in various imaginative ways. It was all a revelation to Q and a source of deep wonder.

Perhaps Bond was right. He’d underestimated what it meant to be an Omega. All his life, he’d been swayed by the stereotypes and had not bothered to explore his own biology and his body’s capacity for pleasure and fulfillment; the sheer joy of finding the right person to share his heat with.

Even as they made mad, gorgeous love over and over, Q knew at the back of his mind that, for better or worse, he would never be able to walk himself back from this experience.

He awoke in gradual increments on the fourth day to find himself nestled against Bond, strong arms wound loosely around him. He’d been so exhausted by the demands of his body, he must have fallen asleep, still knotted to Bond. He must have been off for hours and hours— the longest he’d been out in the past few days. Now, blinking slowly in the soft glow of early morning sunlight, he could not help but feel refreshed, his mind finally clear of the haze of lust that had blanketed his consciousness for days.

Yawning, he stretched luxuriously whilst taking care not to disturb Bond. Bond slept on beside him, and Q blinked owlishly a few more times before he thought to fish for his glasses from the night table. Donning them on, he peered carefully at Bond and was quite pleased with what he saw: the days-old stubble and the general level of dishevelment that warmed the image of the normally suave double-O agent and made him fully human here, in Q’s bed.

 _I did this,_ a newly awakened part of Q could not help but crow. _I made him like this, all tired out from sex._

He continued to watch Bond as other emotions followed, grounding him, dissipating the happy bubble from just moments ago. No matter what would happen between them, he would always be thankful to Bond for this.

Bond stirred as Q settled over him, in part. He kissed the broad expanse of smooth, tanned skin beneath him and followed with his lips the solid line of Bond’s spine beneath the strong, corded muscles of his back.

“Sshh,” he murmured as he felt Bond’s hand reach out to touch him. “It’s okay. I’m here. Go back to sleep.”

He leaned his cheek against the warm, rippling contours of Bond’s back as Bond settled down again, muttering something incoherent as he slid back into sleep after making sure that Q was indeed there, as he promised.

 _There is still some time_ , Q reminded himself as he was consoled by Bond’s even breathing. _Time enough for this._

* * *

At first, he did not think he could get out of bed, but he managed by putting one foot in front of the other, and before he knew it, he was in the kitchen, pouring himself some water and hastily downing it before rifling through the fridge. He was famished and his legs wobbled slightly, as though they’d forgotten the task of carrying his weight and standing upright.

He remembered Bond had taken good care of him by feeding him, sometimes even by hand when the fever finally reached its peak. There had been biscuits and yoghurt, and morsels of cheese and bits of fruit when he could no longer stomach even small bites of sandwiches.

Now he found himself frying up some sausages and scrambling some eggs. There was buttered toast and coffee. He wolfed down his portion of breakfast, then decided to take a shower as his mind steadily cleared and became alert, focused. He was brimming with a sense of well-being that had become rare outside his childhood and early teenage years, before the lure of the computers had latched on permanently and turned sleep into a complicated, tortuous idea that was best delayed, night after night.

Bond was still out of it by the time he emerged from the bathroom, freshly shaven and fully dressed for the first time in days.

He hesitated to do so, but felt he had no choice as soon as he sat himself down in front of his computer: duty called, along with the inevitable task of calling M.

“Q,” said M, answering his call on the second ring. “I see you’re finally back.”

Q fought back the urge to squirm under his boss’s steady, assessing gaze. “Good morning, sir,” he said.

“Are you alright?”

“Perfectly so, sir,” he replied. “Bond was…he took good care of me.”

“Glad to hear it.” M’s voice was dry, perfectly professional and entirely uninterested in delving deeper into what Q had just told him. “You don’t need to come in immediately. Report to Medical with 007 and take the rest of the day off to recover. I’ll see you same time tomorrow morning for the usual weekly meetings.” 

“Sir—”

“Don’t worry about 007,” said M smoothly, as though he’d read his mind. “This is a mission, of a sort, and you will both treat it as such. Nothing more. I’ll have a car sent down by ten o’clock to take you both to Medical. Just make sure to wake him beforehand.”

* * *

Q stood by the doorway of his room, hands in his pockets, drinking in the sight of Bond as he lay prone in bed, just as he’d left him. He’d dawdled in rousing him, hoping Bond would wake of his own accord. No such luck, apparently.

 _Be firm with him,_ M had advised.

 _Harden your heart_ , in short.

Q could not bring himself to do it. He ended up bringing in the plate of eggs and sausages as well as coffee as a pretext before he gently shook Bond awake.

Bond came to with a grunt, all limbs moving at once, it seemed to Q, as he made to turn over.

“Bond,” Q said, “good mo—”

He was instantly enclosed within the circle of Bond’s arms before he was finished speaking, hauled in for kisses and a warm embrace.

“Mmm.” It came out as a gruff purr. Q lifted his head to see Bond, smiling, and felt a painful contraction of the heart. “Morning. You’ve… bathed.”

This, uttered in an increasingly puzzled, skeptical tone as Q detached himself slowly from Bond. He sat at arm’s length as Bond made to examine him more thoroughly. “And dressed,” Bond continued in mild dismay.

Q cleared his throat. “Excellent observation, thank you, Bond,” he said dryly.

He felt Bond’s fingers loosen their hold on him further and wished, illogically, for them to remain as they were.

“So you’re out of it, then,” Bond said, his voice turning curiously flat.

“Well, it seems so,” said Q, attempting to be light, “though I’ve not expected it to be so sudden. Is it always like this, like a light switch— on, then off?”

He turned away before Bond could respond. “Anyway,” he said a touch too brightly, feeling that sharp, blue gaze on him as Bond started to assess the new situation. “Breakfast.”

“You didn’t have to,” replied Bond, his gaze still fixed on him.

“I want to,” Q said softly as he pressed the plate toward Bond. “Please. You must be hungry.”

“No, Q,” said Bond, trying to set aside the plate that was being handed to him. “Let’s talk—”

“There may not be that much time for it, I’m afraid,” said Q apologetically. “A car is coming to fetch us in twenty minutes.”

* * *

Throughout the ride, Q kept his hand in Bond’s. He wished, with increasing desperation, that they could have that talk, though M had assured him that Bond would understand this to be an assignment. One of many in his long career as an Alpha agent.

In the end, all he could say was thank you, over and over, while Bond gazed at him, then out the window. What could they possibly say, in broad daylight, in a chauffeured car that was taking them back to Six and to their usual lives?

Yet Bond kept his hold over Q’s hand, and Q wished they could speak.

“I…I’ll see you,” said Q awkwardly when they finally pulled into Medical.

Bond gave his hand a brief squeeze and then they were getting out of the car. Already, Bond’s expression was inscrutable. Perhaps he already knew through countless debriefings of this sort that it would not be possible to have any sort of contact with Q for the next two weeks.

A wash-out period, M had said. It was all part of the normal protocol to get them to uncouple fully.

It was, Q thought, rather cruel, but he was sure it was something that Bond would have no problem shrugging off.

On the other hand, he found the medical examination awaiting him pointless and rather intrusive, even though it was Dr. Wang doing her best to put him at his ease.

“We’ll have the results of your blood tests in a few days, though I don’t think we’ll find anything amiss,” she said, “and don’t worry about those neck glands, they’ll go down soon.”

Q fingered the glands on his neck gingerly, still sore and engorged.

There were some more questions to which he offered monosyllabic replies, then, because he could not help himself, “and, Bond?”

“He’s got his own medical examination to go through,” said Dr. Wang. “M has no doubt informed you of the two week wash-out period?”

Q nodded. “May I go now?” he asked next.

Dr. Wang looked up and said, “sure. We’ll see you in a few days, Quartermaster.”

Two weeks would not be such a long time. R would have no problem handling 007 in the field.

He knew it was all for the best. The sooner they got back on their own feet, the better it would be for everyone concerned.

If only it wasn’t this hard, Q thought.

* * *

It finally hit him when he got back home, like a freight train or a ton of bricks: how everything was the same and how everything was totally different, and all because Bond was not there. 

They never even got a chance to say a proper goodbye. Two weeks was going to be an eternity.

It was absurd, Q knew. It wasn’t as though he wouldn’t see the man again.

_But it’s not going to be like this. Not ever again._

When he saw Bond next, it would be different. They would be different.

All the peppy energy he had that morning was suddenly gone. He was just so tired. He made his way back to his bed and burrowed in. Instantly, Bond’s scent was all around him. Their scent.

It was like a warm blanket, deeply comforting. It was also like a punch to the gut.

Instantly, he deeply regretted having showered so hastily that morning, thoughtlessly washing Bond’s scent off him. He regretted having called M so soon. He regretted throwing Bond out of his flat without even so much as kissing him goodbye.

 _Why?_ He thought as he buried his face into the pillow, feeling the tears start. Why could he not spare them another hour, another day?

 _Be firm with him,_ M had said. _This is an assignment, nothing more._

Bond was not his to do as they pleased.

He must have dozed off at some point, for when he moved again in bed, it was already late afternoon.

He scanned his phone— something he’d neglected to do in the past few days. There were several messages awaiting him from M and R, and two missed calls from Bond.

Their two weeks begins now, he thought as he set his phone aside.


	13. Chapter 13

**Author's Notes:** Hey everyone! It's that time of the year again! Welcome to[ **007 Fest** ,](https://mi6-cafe.tumblr.com/post/622345444067082240/welcome-to-007-fest-007-fest-is-our-month-long) a monthlong celebration of all things James Bond! There will be a lot more updates on the fics, plus new stories and art as we battle it out among teams Q branch (I'm a minion this year!), 00 Agents, Villains and Civilian. Come join the fun and updates on my fanworks at [**my tumblr**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/)! See you!

Aaand, this may be short, but it marks a turning point in the story. Enjoy! Comments are always welcome!

* * *

“You can’t be serious.” M’s tone was soft and dangerous.

“I am,” Bond said flatly.

Fresh off a heat and still very territorial, he might be forgiven for not wanting to back down from a pissing contest (as Bond had clearly decided to view this debriefing) with another Alpha, even if the said Alpha were M. Unfortunately, M was not feeling particularly charitable with Bond’s choice of words, not to mention the manner in which he said them.

“Two weeks,” said M as he fixed Bond with a hard stare. “Then you may come back and tell me your final decision.”

Bond scoffed. “Was that what you told him? Two weeks and everything’s going to clear up like magic and we can pretend that nothing happened?”

“The wash-out period after a heat is part of official protocol, 007, as you very well know,” replied M, frostily, “though it was not meant for you as much as for Q. At least I had hoped so. I’d still expect a standard report to be submitted.”

“Already there at your desk,” Bond said, indicating the narrow, black leather folder on M’s table.

M glanced at it and continued, “And as for the rest of what you’ve said, we’ll revisit it in two weeks. The ultimate decision does not rest on you, anyway, so I would advise you not to jump to conclusions.”

“You know this could happen,” said Bond. “There was always that risk.”

“Of course, though I rather thought that, given your experience, you’d be able to handle it. Otherwise I wouldn’t have tasked you with the assignment,” said M. “You came out of it a mess, 007.”

His tone was curt as frustration got the better of him for a moment.

Just for a moment.

Abruptly, he changed tack: “And how is the knee, by the way?”

Bond grunted. “It’s not a problem. Medical will clear it,” he said, a touch of impatience coloring his bored tone.

“The sooner the better,” M said dryly as he rifled through his papers.

“Why?” said Bond suddenly, his pale gaze keen. “Has there been any new development regarding the mark?”

“You won’t be sent out within the next few weeks,” M said, warming to his point with Bond. “Because we have reason to believe that the mark is now here, in Britain.”

Bond grew still. Then he said, softly, “What. The. Fuck.”

“Indeed,” agreed M, “we think he rather enjoyed the attention back in Slovenia, which is why you will be continuing your mission here, along with a team of agents from Thames House. As soon as Medical clears you, of course.”

“We don’t need anyone from across the river to—” Bond began, predictably enough, only to be cut off.

“We do,” M said implacably. “Now that our targets have overlapped, we need to coordinate with them in regards their own operations inside London’s underground brothels. Despite our best efforts, we still know so distressingly little about Antolin Resnik. Q branch is currently analyzing the data gleaned from Slovenia. Despite your efforts, you’ve only managed to catch a glimpse of him. All we truly know is that he’s an Alpha and in the space of five years he has managed to become the head of a vast criminal empire that is now threatening to set root here in the UK.”

“He’s nothing but a second-rate thug,” said Bond dismissively.

“Who has managed to build one of the largest and most notorious human trafficking rings in Eastern Europe,” said M, “and has a fiercely loyal following. Track him down first, 007, and we’ll establish what he is and what he isn’t.”

“With pleasure,” drawled 007 as he stood to take his leave.

Finally alone in his office, M sank back slowly into his seat.

He’d really not expected this, with Bond.

All the while, he’d been worried about Q, yet he’d emerged from his heat intact and was quite himself again. As expected, his scent was now manageable, yet there were telltale signs of unresolved matters, such as the scarf he’d wound around his neck to hide those engorged neck glands that had not been bitten into. They would subside in due time, but M knew the talk surrounding the Quartermaster would be harder to quell.

Q had returned to work quietly, with a new tension lining his spine and stiffening his shoulders. M could sympathize but there was not much he could advise Q other than to soldier on. Q had hit the ground running when it came to their meetings at Whitehall on his first day back, and while M could not stop the news of Q’s presentation from reaching the higher-ups, he’d tried limiting the damage as much as possible by shielding Q under the umbrella of his authority. So far it had worked; Q had proven himself time and again to these people and they were familiar with his achievements. Still, curbing their curiosity over this sensitive issue had proved to be beyond M’s powers.

They had managed well enough in that meeting, though he could sense that Lord Carrington was far from finished with his queries. He’d always had a special interest in the Quartermaster, Lord Carrington. He was among those who’d pointed out Q’s age as a reason to question his appointment as head of Q branch. As a widowed Alpha, perhaps he’d sensed what Q was all along. As the right hand man of the Foreign Secretary, he could mean trouble.

 _No,_ thought M. He could deal with the likes of Lord Carrington. Based on what had just transpired here, in his office, the more immediate problem in his hands was Bond.

What the man had said was perfectly true. As an Alpha, M himself had been through it, and it was something he’d not missed.

He knew that this could happen— was bound to happen— sooner or later. He just could not believe it would happen _now._

Gazing down at the leather folder in front of him, he already knew what was inside without even lifting the cover: a blank sheet of paper would comprise Bond’s report on the Quartermaster’s heat.

He decided to call Medical for an update.


	14. Chapter 14

**Author's Notes** : Hey, everyone! Welcome to another chapter! Here's the long-awaited confrontation! This was difficult to write and involves a bit of icky dialogue with Trevelyan. Alphas are Alphas, UGH. Still, I hope you enjoy as the drama ramps up! Comments are always appreciated!

* * *

Q ached.

Five days on, he ached terribly, and it wasn’t so much his body that was sore.

God, he missed him. So very much. Constantly, constantly.

At first, there had been other concerns that took up his attention. He’d fretted for the first few days, wondering what people might think of him now, after emerging from a heat. Then he realized that he couldn’t possibly give a damn as work swallowed him up and he sank effortlessly into his usual routine. Except for that short, tense meeting at Whitehall, he was largely confined to his own branch, safe with his own people. He was immensely grateful for their silent acceptance and support.

The meeting with the top dogs at the Foreign Office had been tricky, but M was there, making it clear to the higher ups that he would answer for his decision to keep the Quartermaster’s presentation under wraps. They couldn’t possibly have any objections, given Q’s outstanding work record, yet there had been questions, especially from Lord Cecile Carrington.

The lofty Lord Cecile was not even that old— he was barely in his fifties— but he was certainly, in M’s own words, a pompous arsehole of the Old Order. In terms of outlook and countenance, he was a relic— a stuffy, Edwardian gentleman transported through time to the present. Q liked to think of himself as something of an old soul, but surely nowhere near the calibre of Lord Cecile, with his affected manners and archaic turns of phrase which were meant to be elegant but were nothing but a nuisance to everyone else.

Unfortunately, he was also the Foreign Secretary’s right-hand man, and wielded considerable influence behind the scenes. Key appointees to top agency positions passed under his scrutiny.

On a more personal note, Lord Cecile was an Alpha, widowed quite young. Still, Q had thought the man would be professional enough to recognize his work and achievements and leave him be, but what could one expect of a person who’d questioned his abilities from the outset based on his age? And now, of course, his presentation had raised questions, nothing improper but still highly personal— questions indirectly aimed at his judgement, his decision-making skills.

 _What plans are in place to ensure the unbonded Quartermaster’s responsibilities would not be compromised in the event his body went through its natural cycles_ , Sir Cecile did not exactly say to everyone assembled in the meeting, but that had been exactly what he’d conveyed in his complicated, roundabout way of discussing things.

It was tiresome though entirely expected, and M was more than prepared to rebut his claims. Q could only hope that the man’s interest was not a sign of something else. Something more.

He was not interested in Something More with anyone else right now.

He wanted Bond. Only Bond.

Five days into the washout period, and he was missing him like mad. It was ridiculous. The fever had subsided, but the dreams still came, still vivid, dissipating in the busy hours of the workday only to return to haunt him at night, leaving his heart racing and his bed clothes slightly damp.

Then there were the memories, more solid than the dreams and much harder to avoid, sneaking up on him during the most inopportune moments— at a staff meeting, during lunch, basically every time he was free. The memories carried with them a punch that was almost physical, leaving him quite winded each time.

Memories of a strong, hard body against him, inside him, the excruciating pleasure of completion each time they fucked; of hands that could be brutal and so incredibly gentle as they pleased him, and a mouth— warm and urgent, capable of such devouring kisses and the sweetest, filthiest words.

 _It will pass_ , Dr. Wang had assured him, although he could recall very clearly that he’d not given his ex-Alpha a second thought the moment his heat had passed ten years ago. Yet with this heat…

Every time he turned a corner, he would imagine Bond there, standing just a few paces away.

Was that even normal?

He’d faithfully followed the protocol and not answered any of Bond’s calls, though that did not stop him from eagerly checking his phone every time something pinged. Strangely enough, Bond never left messages for him— not that he could answer any of those as well— and the man had stopped calling after the first two days.

Bond had finally got the message.

 _Nine more days,_ Q silently vowed. _Then—_

Then what?

Then, perhaps something like this from Bond, _“well, that was fun. Be sure to ring me up for the next one.”_

Q did not think he could bear the humiliation of it, so he’d tried putting it out of his mind altogether.

Today, he was scheduled to meet with 006.

 _Such a treat_ , he thought witheringly.

“I’m glad to see you looking very well, Q,” said Alec Trevelyan as he hovered over Q’s table, watching as Q took apart his firearm to examine the parts carefully. “Gave us quite a startle, you did.”

Q cleared his throat. “Thank you, 006,” he said crisply, shifting the conversation back to the topic at hand. “I see where the problem might lie, though I’d like you to show me how it jammed the last time.”

Trevelyan showed him. Q frowned, deep in thought as he continued his troubleshooting. “It shouldn’t be doing this, but it _is_ a prototype,” he said. “Well, I’ll have a closer look at it. It’s a good thing we’ll be giving you a new set of familiar short-range firearms for your mission tracking down Resnik.”

“It’ll be nothing but a series of pub crawls, anyway,” drawled Alec, bored.

Q hummed distractedly as he cleared his table and brought up the new kit, his thoughts still on the faulty firearm so that Alec’s next words almost did not register.

Almost.

“It’s Bond, isn’t it,” Alec muttered as he eyed Q closely. “Lucky bastard.”

Q pretended not to hear. Instead, he said, “Pay attention now, 006. Standard Walther PPK—”

“Listen,” said Alec, leaning in. “Bond is usually flexible and I’ll try to put a word in, just in case you’d like to give the three of us a go next time—”

Q smiled at Alec sweetly as he put the gun down on the table. It would be a better idea to just take aim at the man’s crotch and fire.

“I’ve no comment on your allegations about 007, but thanks for the kind offer,” he said sarcastically. “I’m aware you volunteered beforehand and I’ll be sure to call, next time. While we’re at it, maybe—”

“No,” came a soft reply from somewhere behind Q.

 _Shit,_ Q thought, freezing at the sound of that voice.

“Bond,” said Alec, as though nothing out of the ordinary had happened.

Q watched Bond come forward, one hand in his pocket and a small smirk playing at the corner of his mouth.

“No,” said Bond, his unsettling gaze on Alec. “You know I don’t share certain heats, my friend. And no, that does not mean I am pertaining to the Quartermaster's episode.”

Alec smirked. “You used to,” he said before he let his shoulders do a dramatic drop. “Ah, well. Where did all the fun go? It was just a suggestion.”

Q cleared his throat. “Right,” he said a touch too brightly. “Can we go back to the weapons now, please?”

He got through 006’s briefing quickly, too aware that Bond had planted himself beside Alec, refusing to leave and occasionally throwing in a comment as Q explained his way through the firearms and the bugs. Alec did not mind; he did this a lot with Bond, too: crashing in on mission briefings when allowed to.

Finally, still marvelously clueless, Alec said, “right. I’ll be on my way then. Thanks, Q. Do call if you need anything. And, Bond, got time later for a pint or two?”

Bond smiled. “I’ve got to talk to Q,” he said. “Why don’t you go ahead?”

“Right,” said Alec. “Ta.”

Q glanced at Bond, thinking of all the things he'd imagined them doing when they met up again. This did not figure in any of his scenarios.

“Tell me that’s just him,” muttered Q, arms crossed as they watched Alec go. “No, wait. Don’t tell me. I don’t want to know anything more about Alpha kinships. In fact, you shouldn’t even be here. How did you get past—”

“You weren’t answering your phone,” replied Bond with a soft growl. “That’s why.”

“I'm sorry if I came across as abrupt, but you know very well why,” said Q. “Christ, Bond. I wasn’t trying to avoid you on purpose.”

“I deserve more than this,” Bond said, nodding at the guards who’d closed in. “Tell them to back off.”

“You’re not supposed to be anywhere near me,” Q said, but he did nod curtly at the guards. “Very well. We’ve got five minutes.”

Bond fell silent. Q could see him struggling to control himself.

It was heartbreaking.

“I wasn’t avoiding you,” repeated Q evenly. “There’s a protocol, as you very well know, something we should all be adhering to. It makes sense to observe the two-week wash out period before we get to have any serious talk.”

“While you discuss your possible Alpha partners for your next heat with Trevelyan?”

“Bloody fuck,” said Q, unable to believe his ears. “I don’t know how much you’ve heard, but surely you wouldn’t think for a minute that I was seriously—”

“What did I do wrong?” said Bond, apparently not listening to a word he’d said.

“Nothing!” Q replied, quite stricken. “Why would you think that?”

“Of course it’s me,” snapped Bond.

“It’s not you,” said Q, more softly. Inside, he was reeling.

_What was going on?_

He continued, “You were perfect. You gave me…everything—more than I possibly could have imagined.”

“Then what’s wrong?” Bond growled.

“I think you already know what’s wrong,” Q said, his voice still low but growing heated, “or are you being deliberately dense about the whole picture? It’s me, Bond. I told you before, didn’t I? M must have told you, too.”

Bond shook his head. “I don’t see why—”

“You don’t see?” interjected Q tersely. “Fine. Let me remind you, then, in case you’ve conveniently forgotten. I need a bonding partner, not just someone to get me through a heat or two. Please don’t suppose me to be ungrateful, but unless you want to be tied down with me, I suggest you take the goddamned wash out period seriously—”

Bond’s voice cut through Q’s words: “I don’t see why it would be a problem.”

Q lost it, then. “ _Bloody Christ_ , _Bond, just listen to yourself!”_

He felt like bursting into tears of rage, of grief. Instead, he put up a hand to stay the guards and said to Bond, “I would think that you’re playing me, but obviously you’re not yourself. Not yet, anyway. No wonder M took the Resnik mission from you and reassigned it to 006. This is why we need a period to cool off—”

“I wasn’t playing you,” said Bond. “Goddammit, Q, what would it take for you to believe that we’ve got it, you and I?”

“I bet you say that to all the Omegas you’ve bedded,” Q remarked flippantly, his chest heaving. “It makes for a most fetching catchphrase, I suppose. _We’ve got the real thing going.”_

“Obviously, I don’t,” Bond snarled. “So stop mocking me.”

“Why not,” said Q, voice shrill, “when obviously, you’ve not thought this through at all? We’re talking about bonding here, and what that will mean for your career, your life. Christ, Bond, you’re talking about bonding with _me!_ And after all the frolicking fun you’re used to with 006. You can’t just give this a go and think, ‘oh, well. It didn’t work out, but at least we gave it a try—‘”

Q stopped before his voice gave out, before he could choke.

Bond watched him, his eyes clear, lucid. “I meant every word I said during the heat,” he said. “And I wasn’t the one with an addled mind.”

Q could feel his lips curling in a sneer and he turned away before he started shouting yet again. “Give it some more time, then you will thank me for this,” he said shortly. “Trust me, Bond. It’s all for the best.”

When Bond spoke next, his tone was flat. “You said you wouldn’t do this.”

“Do what?”

“You said you won’t treat me like a convenient Alpha,” said Bond. “Well, bloody guess what. You just did.”

“Bond—”

“You can just say it outright and be done with it, instead of twisting things around to make it look like you’re doing me a favor,” spat Bond. “You’ve had me, you’re done with me. Just say it.”

“Christ, Bond, I’m trying to be the voice of reason here—”

“I’m fucking done here,” said Bond as he stalked out of the chamber, leaving Q behind to deal with the aftermath of an explosion in close quarters.

He turned to the guards and a handful of startled minions within earshot and yelled, _“Who the hell let him in?”_

Yet the scene could not be undone.

 _What the hell just happened?_ Thought Q, his breathing still loud and labored to his own ears as his mind sped to contain the damage.

What was that he’d just witnessed? What the _fuck_ was wrong with Bond?


	15. Chapter 15

**Author's Notes:** Aaand welcome to a new chapter! The drama (and new terminology) continues! I hope you enjoy! Do let the Muse know what you think, we'd love to hear from you!

* * *

“They’re not going down,” said Q, wincing as Dr. Wang ran light, gloved fingers over the glands on his neck, still engorged and tender. “I’ve tried warm compresses and they didn’t work.”

He glanced uneasily at M, who stood a few feet away, hands on his hips, his grim gaze never veering from Q’s face. He wasn’t sure what to make of the man, personally coming to Medical to be present during his physical examination.

“Well,” said Dr. Wang, sighing as she stripped off her gloves. “In light of everything that’s happened, I can’t say I’m surprised.”

Q looked from her to M, his confusion deepening. “Except for the glands, I feel fine,” he said.

“It’s not about you, Quartermaster,” said Dr. Wang as she motioned the men to sit down. “These are 007’s latest blood examination results.”

Q frowned. “His hormone levels—”

“Are rising,” said Dr. Wang. “He’s going into rut.”

M gave a heavy sigh and Q realized that Bond’s results were merely confirmatory.

“You knew,” he said.

M raised a weary brow. “Bond’s…episode at Q branch was not the first indication of his condition,” he said. “He said some very unusual things during our debriefing. Hence my decision to pull him out of the Resnik mission.”

Q licked his lips, mind racing.

“And these engorged glands,” he said, turning to Dr. Wang.

Dr. Wang offered a bemused shrug. “They mean you’ve got some unfinished business, if you so choose, Quartermaster.”

“But—”

M quickly got to the point. “You and Bond are syncing.”

 _No,_ Q would have wanted to say, but he’d lost his voice. Instead, he gaped at M.

“As you know,” said Dr. Wang, “the synchronization of cycles is not very common, but it’s also not unheard of. When it does happen, they say it heralds a deep compatibility between partners.”

If her melting gaze could speak, Q was pretty sure it would have gone, _Awww…_

“But this is Bond we’re talking about.” Q had found his voice, but it came out hoarse. “It’s not…I mean, surely, I’m not the first to elicit this from him. He’s used to this. He must be, given his myriad partners.”

“It’s the first time we’ve seen him this way,” said Dr. Wang, “in all these years he’s handled missions involving Omegas.”

“Look, Q,” said M. “The point is, this changes nothing on your part. You’re not obliged to continue in any way whatsoever with Bond. You’re the Omega, you get to make the decisions.”

Q nodded, still feeling numb. “We’ll need to talk soon,” he said. “He and I. I mean, really sit down and talk. Will he be alright, given his present state?”

M nodded curtly. “He’ll know what to do with himself,” he said. “You can talk to him when the wash-out period is over and he’s relieved himself of the rut.”

“Oh,” said Q, deflating just a bit.

“At any rate, he’s gone,” said M. “We’ve not been able to contact him since yesterday, after the episode in Q branch.”

* * *

It was, thought Q, fuming, well and good of Mallory (he always made it a point to use M’s full name in his head when he was displeased or mad at him) to be casual about Bond being bloody missing, but then the man didn’t have to feel responsible for it.

On the other hand, Q felt dreadful.

He should have known yesterday’s blow up for what it was, but strangely enough, he’d not realized it. He was still in disbelief that Bond was going into rut. Even weirder, they were _syncing._

He’d always thought that synchronization was a myth, the stuff of romance novels and sappy happily-ever-after movies with couples growing old together. Certainly, he did not know anyone who’d actually gone through it with somebody else in real life.

But then it was becoming painfully clear to Q that he knew so little of his own biology and its capacities, or the proper way to deal with these things.

Still, he and Bond…??

He shook his head once again, not knowing what to think of it, but he found himself smiling at the thought of it. He quelled the smile and admonished himself for being weird. Still, he could not help it as a feeling bubbled up inside him, of shy wonder and hope. And a great, quiet pleasure.

_He’d managed to do this to Bond!_

M had dismissed Bond’s disappearance as an Alpha tantrum, a bit of downtime for him to lick his emotional wounds and get himself sorted.

It made Q want to snort.

And just how was Bond going to address his rut? He wondered.

It was obvious, wasn’t it? And it would not do.

It would not do at all, he thought as he settled down in front of his computer to begin tracking Bond.

If only there was not urgent work dissecting all the data involving Antolin Resnik that required his immediate attention. Then he would have gone and hauled Bond back in personally.

* * *

“So, how are you, love?” Moneypenny inquired, smiling contentedly after she managed to get Q to pause in his work enough to choose a macaron from the box she’s brought and bite into it.

Q shrugged, his face a thundercloud as he munched. He wasn’t fooled by her offering; he knew why she was here.

“Have you even had lunch today?”

Q waved away Moneypenny’s concern. “Resnik vexes me,” he said. “After all this time, we haven’t got anything on him. He’s very careful leaving traces of himself behind online, and he’s got a tight circle of Alphas running his operations. He must be one hell of an Alpha, to be surrounded by loyal Alphas. How does he do it? I’ve not managed to make sense of the data we’ve got from Slovenia.”

“What does Bond say?” she asked, a bit too innocently.

Q gave her a dark look: _Just where do you get off?_

When she persisted with her bland gaze, he said, “Surely, you realize that I can’t track him? Yet.”

“What? He’s gone dark after his tantrum?” said Moneypenny. “Well, he’s not on assignment, anyway, is he?”

“Did you know he’s going into rut?” Q asked quite bluntly.

Moneypenny merely stared back at him with maddening calm, eyes slightly widened, as if to say, _and what are you going to do about it?_

“Here, you’ve not seen this.” He showed her his neck and her eyes widened even more, this time in genuine shock. It was not every day that anyone could pull that off with Moneypenny, so Q ought to be proud.

“So M’s not told you,” he said.

“No,” she replied. “At least, not directly. But the manner in which Bond exploded in Q branch did send shockwaves all around and prompted questions. Your… condition, however, does change the game somewhat. How do you feel about it, Q?”

Q sat before her, shoulders slumped, his mouth twisted into a thin, unhappy line. “How do I feel about blowing him off when we should have talked and now he’s out there, about to go into rut, and I’m…”

 _Stuck here, miserable. And wildly jealous,_ he did not say. He did not need to.

“Oh, Q,” said Moneypenny, pained.

“I was so stupid,” said Q as he stared at a spot on his desk. “I said some things to him, when all the while I was just…terrified. And hiding behind a nonsensical two-week break that’s nothing more than an excuse not to talk to him— or find out how he really feels about me.”

“And now you know.”

“Do I,” he said softly.

Of course, he did.

“No matter what they say, he’s not yet in rut, you know, and this is Bond we’re talking about,” said Moneypenny. “We can’t really say that his judgement has been impaired all this time. Well, yours was. His wasn’t. Yet what’s astounding is how you didn’t realize the kind of power you, as an Omega, can wield over somebody like Bond. Alphas are not invincible, you know. They do have their weak spots.”

“Lovely of you to point that out, thanks, Moneypants,” sighed Q as he moved to shut his computer. “Anyway, we’ll have to get going then. I imagine M is taking a separate ride to the restaurant?”

Moneypenny blinked. “Sorry? Where are we going?”

“To that dinner meeting arranged by the Foreign Office,” said Q, puzzled and surprised. “A secretary called saying Lord Carrington would be presiding over—”

“M doesn’t have an appointment for dinner tonight,” Moneypenny said.

“Oh,” said Q.

_Oh, shit._


	16. Chapter 16

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter! Things are coming to a head at last! Enjoy and please let the Muse know what you think! We always look forward to hearing from you!

* * *

In the end, M made him go.

“Find out what he wants,” M said over the phone, “and if it has nothing to do with Six, get the hell out of there. Invent whatever excuse you need to. I will file a formal complaint with the Foreign Secretary if necessary.”

It wasn’t that simple, of course.

In the posh, quiet surroundings of the restaurant, Lord Cecile was instantly a familiar figure. Q could tell from the other diners, with their carefully polite, averted gaze; the flicker of sidelong glances. Still, the man rose fluidly to his feet when Q approached the table, his face arranged in a smile and his grip firm as he shook Q’s hand.

“Quartermaster,” Lord Cecile said in his exaggerated, elegant drawl. “I’m sure you know my secretary, Gregory.”

“Yes, hello,” said Q, also shaking hands with Lord Cecile’s lackey.

This was good, Q told himself as he took his seat. At least the man had thought to bring along his secretary, making this dinner look more official and legitimate. He wouldn’t be alone with him.

It did nothing to lessen his sense of being under attack, though.

“I’m sorry, sir, I was under the impression that M would be here as well,” Q said, careful to keep his tone light and professional.

_Show no fear._

“Ah,” said Lord Cecile, lips tilted in a wry, apologetic smile. It had the rather charming effect of lightening those patrician features, usually so grave. Q stared.

“Gareth is a good man,” Lord Cecile began. “We don’t have any complaints with his work and he’s very well thought of among his superiors...”

He paused as the waiter came to pour them some white wine. The menu was apparently already set.

“Please do not suppose this to be an interrogation,” Lord Cecile continued as the waiter moved away. “I can assure you, it is not. But Gareth— M— is so _protective_ of you. And of course, his decision not to reveal your presentation to us came as quite a surprise. I’m sure you can understand that his decisions regarding you raised certain concerns.”

“I thought those concerns had been properly addressed during our last meeting, sir,” said Q, bright, polite smile still plastered on his face.

“They have, yes,” Lord Cecile said as he took out a file folder and glanced down at the contents. His salt and pepper hair, neatly combed back, glinted in the soft light along with his glasses, and Q had a distinct, troubling impression of finding the man strangely…attractive.

“Your dossier is spotless. Excellent record all around,” Lord Cecile continued as he flipped through Q’s pages. “Our only concern is your unbonded omega state.”

“Oh,” said Q, uncomfortably aware of Lord Cecile’s rather pointed gaze as it landed on the scarf that he still kept around his neck. He could almost feel his engorged glands throbbing under that scrutiny. “I didn’t realize that my ‘unbonded’ state could—”

“It can and it does sway the people around you, unfortunately,” said Lord Cecile. “And I do agree that you cannot be faulted for it; that it is everyone’s responsibility to rein in their impulses where you are concerned— unbonded Alphas especially. But you must understand that you occupy a special position, working in a fraught, extraordinary environment where fortunes may turn at the most unexpected moment, where your state of being will, on occasion, present certain challenges. You can unwittingly influence others and they will not be able to help responding to you.”

“If I may, we do have a strict series of checks and balances when it comes to the running of Q branch, sir,” Q argued. “I have to factor in the decisions of two other officers who are directly below me, and M has the final say on—”

“Again, this isn’t about your capabilities, Q, or the system that is in place at Six or Q branch,” Lord Cecile cut in, patiently. “I suppose what we would want to know is, what are your plans toward addressing your…”

Q could hear Lord Cecile’s voice drone on, yet his words fell on deaf ears as Q’s attention was suddenly riveted towards one of the nearby French windows. He’d happened to glance at its direction, only to do a double take before he actually recognized the man standing outside, peering in.

_Bond._

He might have said the name out loud, or he might not have. All he knew was that he was on his feet, his napkin fluttering to the floor as he murmured his excuses to a startled Lord Cecile. Then he was hurrying out of the restaurant, standing there on the other end of that window and, of course, the man was gone.

It was as though he’d never been there, yet Lord Cecile himself confirmed that he was.

“Who was that?” Lord Cecile inquired as Q returned to the table, mind already racing ahead.

 _Mine,_ he wanted to say. _My Alpha. Now you've seen him._

“I’m sorry, sir,” Q said, already taking up his messenger bag, “but I am needed back at work. There appears to be an emergency, and…”

He eyed Lord Cecile and said, quite evenly and succinctly, “in regards your question about my state: I have virtually no influence over M and, yes, I already have someone in mind to bond with. So you need not worry on both counts. As for what comes next, you can hire me or fire me, it’s all up to you. Good night, sir.”

He tried Bond’s number again when he was in a cab, speeding towards Q branch, and of course, the man was not answering.

It was time for drastic measures.

Back at his work station, he called M.

“Well, what does he want?” said M without preamble. “Did he in any way behave inappropriately towards you?”

“The meeting was nonsense, and fortunately, he did not get that far, sir,” said Q. “He was probing my ‘unbonded’ state and I told him I already have someone in mind. You said as the Omega, I get to make all the decisions. I…I want Bond, sir.”

The words came in a rush and were blurted out, so perhaps M needed time to process what he’d just said. “I mean, if he’ll have me, after everything that has happened between us,” he said. “And I know everything falls so much outside professional regulations—”

M’s voice came back on, a bit resigned. “I know what you mean, Q,” he said. “I just wished you could have told me earlier.”

“I—” Q stopped short. “I’m sorry, sir?”

“007 resigned from the double-O program nearly two weeks ago,” M said. “Or he tried to, anyway. I told him it would depend on whether you were willing to bond with him. If you would even consider it. I don’t have any say in the matter if you should decide that you want to be with him, especially as he’s already given way to be with you.”

“He said that,” Q said, reeling slightly from the revelation. “But, he…his career...”

He could not say, _Why didn’t you tell me?!_

“007 already has one of the longest shelf lives as a double-O agent. We can’t hang on to our agents if they should decide to go after a certain point,” said M. “You know that as well as I do. So perhaps you need to track him down and have that talk with him, Q. Now, is there anything else you wish to tell me?”

He considered telling him about Bond, outside the restaurant earlier, but decided he had to track the man down, first.

“No, sir,” replied Q, still slightly numb. “Thank you, sir, and good night.”

“Good night, Q. And good luck.”

Q blew out a shaky breath as he sank down to sit on the edge of his table. He considered his silent phone for a moment, thoughts skimming through his mind like flashes of lightning.

He could be unscrupulous and hack into Bond’s phone to track him, but something told him he did not need to go that far.

There was, perhaps, a quicker way to track down an Alpha who was about to go into rut.

Alec picked up on the third ring, the sound of loud music blaring in the background, muffling his voice.

“Q,” he said. “This had better be important.”

“006. Trevelyan,” Q said, his tone clipped and precise. “I need a huge favor. I need you to track Bond down, scour the clubs for him. I think he’s—”

“Whoa, whoa,” said 006 as he moved away from all the harsh music to somewhere more quiet and private. “Relax. I’ve got my eyes on him right now.”

“What?” Q said, stopping in his tracks. “Now?”

“He’s not gonna like me spilling the news to you like this, but it’s gonna come out sooner or later, even if he’s not supposed to be here, helping to flush our man out,” 006 continued. “But he’s here, now, at Cirque le Soir, on the dance floor with Resnik. Christ, Q, how did we never realize the man's an Omega?”


	17. Chapter 17

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter, and it's WILD!!! Not sure if it makes sense. It made _enough_ sense, I thought. Do let me know what you think and, as always, I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Cirque le Soir was one of London’s premiere nightclubs and, like Dante’s Inferno, was arranged in circles, growing ever smaller the more one penetrated its depths and the casual partygoers gave way to more elite and exclusive clientele who inhabited a subterranean maze, very hush-hush and virtually inaccessible without the proper clearance and passes.

It was altogether a different sphere of existence, an open secret passed around in the highest circles of society who were geared toward certain tastes and sexual presentations. Even the air in these darkened chambers was heavier, saturated with lust and heady anticipation, Alpha sweat mixing with Omega pheromones.

Through the throbbing music, there was a collective, voluptuous murmur of pleasure that ran through the denizens of this place— gorgeous Omegas who went barely clothed, or arrayed in outrageously provocative outfits as they sat on the laps of their Alphas. Others— mostly Alphas— were still on the hunt, nursing their drinks at the bar as they let their eyes roam restlessly over the churning crowd. Others were already engaged, coupling frenziedly in private and not-so-private rooms and alcoves, whichever suited one’s tastes. The sounds there were different, yet altogether familiar to Bond— the hungry moans and the piercing screams of pleasure, the rough growls and the high-pitched pleadings for more, oh god, _more._ It was thoroughly distracting, and given Bond’s current state, he could not afford to lose focus until he’d latched on to his mark.

 _“We’ve got you,”_ Alec had said _. “But mind yourself out there. You’re a few hours away from going off the deep end. Whatever happens, don’t let him bite.”_

Already, as he made his way around the throbbing, dancing crowd, several hands had reached out to touch and caress him. Faces flitted by, close enough to whisper bold propositions. Still, he forged on.

Bond was a frequent enough guest here and, in this rarefied inner sanctum inhabited by the rich and powerful Alphas and their Omega pets, he was well-acquainted with several regulars. Yet there was a newcomer here tonight— a very special guest who’d arrived just to see him. Someone who had managed to turn the entire Alpha hierarchy of the establishment upside down and inside out.

At first glance, Antolin Resnik looked nowhere like an Omega. That was the problem. He was well-built and square-jawed, darkly handsome with a closely trimmed beard. He was about Bond’s height and even had a bit of Bond’s strut in his gait as he approached.

He was also entirely shameless, reaching out first to Bond via a series of bold, flirtatious texts, and then a call or two. Bond had shown him a picture of himself which had finally managed to make him come out and play.

“Hello, lover,” Resnik drawled as he came right into Bond’s space, dark eyes glittering. “So we meet at last.”

And, god, the smell of him— rich and enticing, irresistible. If there was any lingering doubt that he was an Omega, it should be put to rest here, now. Bond had to turn his face away a fraction to clear his head. He’d endured days of waiting, abstaining from indulging, just so he could get to this point. He did not think he would be able to last much longer.

“You know who I am,” said Bond.

“Better yet, I know _what_ you are,” said Resnik with a smirk. “Your colleagues aren’t going to be of much help if I were to claim you here, right now. I’ve got my men on them, your three to my six or seven just inside this room. You’ve gone dark, all of you. Your superiors don’t even know you’re here with me. There will be no backup that’s going to arrive on time. At any rate, I wouldn’t mind killing everyone here. If they don’t want that to happen, they’d better stand down and just let me have you.”

Bond watched Resnik, those dark eyes darting all over his face, inspecting him. There was no earwig, no listening devices anywhere on his person, and no gun. Bond was going this alone and that seemed to satisfy the man pressing ever closer against him.

 _“Oohh,”_ Resnik breathed appreciatively as his gaze trailed down the swollen lumps on Bond’s neck. “So _fucking_ lovely! You weren’t lying, then. I thought your picture must surely be a trick of some sort. You’re so ripe for the taking. Did you work yourself up just for me?”

Bond willed himself to focus away from the scent that threatened to overwhelm him, this man in front of him who was not his Omega.

He’d followed Q out one final time tonight and watched him through those tall French windows as he sat down to dinner with a powerful man. It was a kind of farewell, perhaps. After tonight, depending on how this mission turned out, he may not be able to think of him again.

“Come on. It’s time to dance,” murmured Resnik as he took Bond by the hand. “Time to soak me up, lover.”

“You seem very sure of yourself,” Bond said, stalling for time.

“Oh, Mr. Bond,” Resnik replied, smiling. “I do know how to handle Alphas, you know. That’s your agency’s mistake, right until the end, sending out Alpha agents to get at me.”

There, on the dance floor, he draped his arms over Bond as he cooed, “I could have just snatched you off the streets, that would have been much safer, no? But I can’t have them possibly messing things up, messing you up, when you’re so bloody close to your rut. And it’s going to be brilliant! It's going to be so fucking delicious, taking you. After we’re done here and you’ve latched onto me, I’ll whisk you off to my own special place in Sardinia, via private jet. We’ll fuck there, uninterrupted, for days on end, until you belong to me. Would you like that?”

“Your Alphas—”

Resnik giggled. “You’ll be a fine addition to my… harem. They're all hand-picked, you know, based on their abilities and talents. And you. I wanted you the moment you tried to crash my little party in Slovenia. You’re wondering how a little Omega like me could do it, enslaving Alphas, no? Well, it’s certainly a first! What can I say? I’m just blessed with a special mix of pheromones, and forced bondings have always been my kink. You’ll find out all about it soon enough, won’t you, lover?”

He reached up to lick at Bond’s closed lips, laughing softly as Bond jerked his head away. “I do like that you’re so very stubborn,” Resnik observed. “But for how long? Tell me you’ll last until I’ve kissed you, at least.”

There, amid the slowly writhing bodies, time seemed to stand still and to lose all meaning as Bond’s control gradually slipped away.

“Yeah, put your hands on me, lover,” crooned Resnik as Bond tilted forward, slotting their bodies in place. “Touch me. Smell me, baby. Just take me in. That’s it, good lad.”

Bond closed his eyes, his consciousness swimming, dimly aware of hands roaming all over him, Resnik’s mouth to his ear, whispering the filthy things they would be doing soon. His mind flashed back to a dark, tousled head, and green eyes blown wide and dark with desire.

He felt a mouth trail wet, obscene kisses down his jaw, greedily licking at the engorged glands on the side of his throat and he could no longer move away or defend himself from the bite that must surely follow. His head lolled forward as he waited, and all he could think about was Q and his sweet, hot mouth there, on his neck, claiming him. As it should have been—

Out of the din from the dance floor came a familiar voice, cutting right through Bond's muddled thoughts like a dash of cold water: “Ah, James! Here you are! So sorry I’m late!”

Startled, Bond cracked his eyes open just as a hard, slender hand appeared from nowhere, prying his head out of Resnik’s hold. He blinked, dazed, unable to understand or believe what he was seeing as his face was turned abruptly to the side. He found Q there, in a shiny bodysuit and glitter on his face, busily inserting himself between him and a stunned Resnik.

“Sorry, so sorry,” Q continued to chirp loudly, brightly, as he slid insouciantly between them, cattily shaking Resnik’s hands off Bond. “So rude of me, I know, but he’s supposed to be here with _me.”_

Resnik hissed, “What in bloody _fuck—”_

Q was having none of him as he turned to give Bond a full, wet snog, his familiar scent enveloping Bond, sending him out of his stupor.

“Fucking snap out of it, Bond,” growled Q softly against Bond’s lips as he slipped a gun into his hand.

Somebody fired first— one of Resnik’s men, or Resnik himself? Bond wasn’t very sure, in the sudden tumult of the panicked crowd. All he could do was wrap an arm around Q as he started firing the gun in his other hand, reflexes kicking in as he backed away.

All the while, Q wrapped himself against Bond, head tucked into Bond’s neck as he barked orders into his earwig. Agents started pouring in, Alec shoring up Bond’s back as they continued to fire in the rising smoke and mayhem.

“Where the bloody hell have you been?” Bond snapped at Alec.

“Sorry, mate,” said Alec with maddening calm. “Got waylaid a bit by Resnik's men. At any rate, he—” gesturing at Q “— wouldn’t give us the go signal to pounce until he got here!”

“Along with reinforcements!” Q piped in indignantly as he clung onto Bond. “You hare-brained lot have got a huge amount of explaining to do once this is over! Where M is concerned, we’re all buggered!”

And it was over soon enough, with Resnik bloodied and captured, his men down.

This was supposed to be largely an MI5 operation, so now Q let them take over as he whisked his errant agents away to Medical.

Bond soon found himself sitting slumped in a familiar, white cubicle, dirty and disheveled, being examined for injuries by Dr. Wang while Q hovered uneasily nearby.

“Well, a few shallow gashes,” said Dr. Wang, expertly taping up one such injury on Bond’s temple. “Which is to say 007 got off lightly there, for once.”

“But Resnik’s Omega effects,” Q began.

“Will wear off,” said Dr. Wang reassuringly. “His glands were not bitten into. He’ll just be a bit dizzy for now.”

“See?” said Alec as he moved into sight, eyeing Bond. “There was absolutely no reason to worry! I don’t know why you’d insist on the dramatic entrance, Q. It’s so unlike you.”

“Be quiet, 006,” hissed Q. “The only reason you're not in even more hot water right now is because I got to learn of your and Bond's insane scheme just in time. You’d best prepare an explanation once M— oh, here he is now.”

Q moved away to answer his phone, leaving Alec with Bond.

“You okay, mate?”

Bond nodded without opening his eyes. He was so tired he could fall asleep any moment now.

“It’ll wear off,” Alec assured him. “So. You and Q. Since when?”

He shrugged as Bond remained silent and continued, “I see. Well, that clears up the little mystery as to who he spent his heat with. And it's pretty serious between you, then, if it had to come to this point. Quite clever, too, having him come after you like this. Let’s just say, never make the Quartermaster jealous ever again in future, yeah? Spare us from all the hellfire and brimstone.”

“006, why are you still here? Off you go,” snapped Q, moving back in. The possessiveness in his voice was obvious even without Bond looking at his face. 

It nearly made Bond laugh.

Alec raised his hands. “Going, going,” he said. "Oh, and congrats. I suppose."

“M’s office, first thing tomorrow at nine,” Q merely called after him, not bothering to address his words.

Silence at last, after a moment.

Bond continued to sit still, eyes closed and head throbbing, acutely aware of Q’s heady scent, deliciously mingling with a light sheen of sweat as he sat down beside him.

“Bond,” came Q’s voice, very gentle, very warm.

No, Bond wouldn’t look at him. Wouldn’t speak to him.

He couldn’t not hear him though. He could not be insensible to Q’s soft, pained gasp as he turned his head away sulkily.

He could not miss the slight crack in that beloved voice as Q whispered, “Bond, I’m so sorry.”


	18. Chapter 18

**Author's Notes:** Aaand here's the next chapter! Jeez, we're so close to finishing already! Makes me feel glad and sad in equal measure. Do let us know what you think! Enjoy!

* * *

Q watched the medics tending to Bond and wondered what was taking them so long to look into some scratches. Really, Bond had got off quite lightly this time around and it was all he could do not to hurry things along as Dr. Wang plastered him up.

What was taking the good Doctor so long, given that Bond did not even need stitching up?

Yet he knew the problem did not lie with Dr. Wang or any of the staff at Medical, with their miracle-working expertise. Nothing had changed with these people.

If only he could say that about himself. He’d crossed a line tonight and there was no going back. Not that he even wanted to.

“Away with all of you! Be gone!” he would like to say as soon as Dr. Wang was finished, but of course he could not do so. Instead, he had to be content in doing the right thing, which was not to be a nuisance and let the medical team finish their job.

Standing in the regulated, cool environs of Medical, he felt too warm, even in his skimpy party attire. Warm and uncomfortably moist. In fact, it felt as though he were going into heat once again, standing a few feet away from Bond, eyeing the man hungrily and not being able to touch him. So he directed a bit of his restless energy in castigating 006.

Trevelyan deserved the tirade, anyway. Had Q not called him at the last minute and learned all about the agents’ madcap scheme, who knew how this night would have turned out? Would Bond have been able to withstand Resnik? Would he even have it within him to do so at this point?

The memory came again, a painfully clear picture in his head as though it had been branded there with a red-hot poker— of Bond and the other Omega, entwined on the dance floor— and it was all Q could do not to reach out and smash something. He took care to stay away from the medical equipment nearby while he gave 006 a telling off.

He had to give Trevelyan a break when M called, asking after the mission. After being assured that it had all gone to plan, he said, “That was an audacious move, Q, and not something I’d like to see repeated. Is that clear?”

“Yes, sir,” Q said meekly, thinking of the phone call they had earlier in the evening which had erupted into a blazing argument as Q made his case of going in personally to extract Bond from Resnik’s hold. In the end, M had given in, not because of Q’s assertion that they needed an Omega for Bond to latch onto, but because he knew he would not be able to stop Q from going, come hell or high water. The most M could do was to send Q in with one hell of a reinforcement team.

“And well done,” said M. “I trust everything is in order at Q branch and you’ve given R your endorsements?”

“Yes, sir,” said Q. “It’s barely been a week since I came back, so…”

M gave a dry hum. “Good luck, then,” he said, “with Bond.”

Q had to bite his lip for a bit to prevent a strange sound from coming out of his mouth. He could swear it was a half-sob. “Thank you, sir,” he finally said.

He came back to find the medics were done and, given how he’d put his foot down all evening, it was easy to shoo 006 away.

Which left him with the man sitting slumped before him, arms crossed over his chest. Even through Bond’s fatigue, his resentment was clear as day, and it was evident that he’d made up his mind to be obstinate as he threw his silent tantrum.

Still, Bond could just get up and leave, Q reasoned, and the fact that he was still sitting there was enough of an encouragement for Q to sit himself down beside him.

“Bond,” he called softly and it was painful, seeing him turn away a fraction. He wouldn’t even look at him. His continued silence was an open wound between them.

Q faltered, then tried again, “Bond. I’m so sorry.”

There was silence for a moment. Then, “Why?”

Q blinked. He’d not expected Bond to reply, much less with that query.

When there was no immediate answer, Bond continued, “As you’ve pointed out, your reasons for us to not be together were legitimate.”

“Oh, they are,” said Q after a startled pause. “I’m not apologizing for their logic.”

He could feel Bond tighten beside him, about to pull away. “But then,” he continued, “that logic was out of place here, as I’ve come to realize. And you…I very nearly lost you because of it. It's natural to doubt and hesitate, going into a precipitous relationship such as ours, but these feelings pale in comparison to the thought of losing you. And to lose you to someone like Resnik...I would regret that immensely.”

Q licked his lips, his mouth dry; he was only too aware that his throat was threatening to close. “You’re right when you said I think and act like a Beta,” he continued after a moment. “It’s what I’ve known all my life. I’ve still to get used to this. Us. What we’re capable of doing to each other. And perhaps…perhaps your rut was what drove you to seek out Resnik… still, it had hurt. It hurts so much to see you give yourself away like that to somebody else. It was cruel. As cruel as how I’ve treated you, and I suppose I deserve that lesson, after having turned you away when I should have taken better care of you after my heat, and I’m so sorry, Bond. I—”

Something seemed to give way inside Q as he spoke, the words coming out in a rush now, a torrent of feelings long pent up, so that it took him a moment to realize that Bond was butting in, vehemently shushing him up.

“Bloody Christ, you still don’t get it, do you?” said Bond, his tired face fixed in an expression of exasperated incredulity and, yes, reluctant amusement. “My poor, dear innocent.”

“I fail to see how this is funny, Bond,” Q huffed, feeling a bit better and on more familiar ground as his feathers were ruffled. He nudged at Bond as he sat there, apparently still numb. “And I’m _not—”_

Bond smiled as he shook his head, interrupting Q by saying, “I didn’t do it to exact revenge. Rather, I knew you’d come for me.”

As Q stared at him, stunned, Bond continued, “I was banking on you to lay claim to what’s yours.”

Thoughts flying, Q felt his lips part, yet he found he could not give voice to what he was thinking or feeling. There were just too many, heaping one on top of the other: outrage, astonishment, a need to punch Bond, and an equal need to kiss him.

“You…knew I’d come,” Q whispered. “That little scene outside the restaurant. That was your way of calling for me.”

Bond nodded, lips sliding into a small, wry smile. “And you didn’t disappoint, either,” he added. “Not with your costume, nor prying me out of Resnik’s hold like that.”

Blushing, Q glanced down at his body-hugging party suit, remembering how he’d abandoned all pride and dignity as he danced angrily to cut in, to split, to wrench apart the seemingly fused bodies of his Alpha and the impostor on that dance floor. “It was…I had to…Moneypenny came up with this costume at the last minute,” he confessed.

“Did she, now.” Bond’s smile stretched into a grin. “My rescue was a concerted effort, then.”

Q couldn’t help but chide him, “Bond, you daft git. What if I didn’t come, or if I came too late?”

Bond shrugged. “You didn’t,” he merely said.

“Won’t you please look at me?”

Q flushed harder as Bond turned to him a bit, his blue gaze not frosty at all as he took in Q’s face before dipping down appreciatively to take in his figure. Q could feel that look like the touch of a sure hand over his skin.

“Since we’re delving into warped logic,” Q said, warming up beneath Bond’s gaze, “I thought I might venture to say that all that talk about biting into one’s glands to bond…that was rubbish, wasn’t it? We’ve bonded during my heat, haven’t we?”

“I knew you’d catch on quickly.” Bond’s smile held a touch of fond pride. “But the biting…it does have its function, even though it’s been grossly exaggerated. The cherry on top of all that gorgeous icing on the cake.”

“Mmm,” said Q as he sidled closer to Bond, shy but growing excited. “Don’t start with the food allusions. I am getting hungry.”

“So am I,” Bond replied, voice dropping into a low growl as he touched his forehead to Q’s.

“Are you still angry with me?” ventured Q tentatively.

“Well. Once upon a time, perhaps,” said Bond, “yet even then, your concerns were completely understandable. And I do mean that.”

He lifted his head to look at Q, his expression serious. “It’s not going to be easy. The first few months, especially. All that adjustment—”

“Your career,” murmured Q.

“I’ve put in more time in the double-O program than any other agent,” Bond answered. “I don’t think M will disagree when I say it’s time for me to retire. It’s not a career one can aspire to grow old in. This isn’t the first time I’m quitting, and I would have no regrets, doing it for you. But you, and what it will mean for your job to be bonded to someone like me—”

“It will shut Carrington up, for one. Everyone’s clamoring for me to get bonded, and I want to, with you,” replied Q without hesitation. “Of all the regrets, in that one moment you had Resnik in your arms, this was the one that touched me deeply, that I could have had you and failed to do so, all because I was too afraid.”

Bond hummed. “Time was against us. I’ve not even taken you out on a proper date,” he argued.

Q giggled. “Is that your only concern, Bond?”

“Well, since we’re into heartfelt confessions right now, I think you may as well know,” said Bond, “that I’ve fallen in love with you.”

“Oh,” said Q after a moment, his voice turning watery for one dangerous second before he got a grip of himself. “Ohh. Well, isn’t that strange?”

“How so?” Bond wanted to know as Q dipped his head, suddenly shy.

“I think…I do realize that I’ve fallen in love with you, too,” said Q around a tremulous little sound, part sigh and part snort. “And I…I want to take you home, Bond.”

Q nudged Bond a bit, leaning his head to tuck himself against Bond’s collarbone, breathing in Bond’s warm, familiar scent as the man gave a low, satisfied hum that was almost a purr, strong arms finally coming up to wrap around him.

“I am home,” Bond said, quite simply, and Q found he could not say anything more as he hugged Bond back, fiercely.

“Make no mistake, I want to bond with you properly,” Bond continued, his breath lightly ghosting over Q’s neck, over his throbbing, sensitive glands, prompting a light shudder of arousal. “That bite that we will administer to one another while we fuck. Will you let me?”

“Yes,” breathed Q, bringing his head up to seek Bond’s mouth as Bond shoved his hand into Q’s hair. “Oh, bloody hell, yes. Especially when you say it like that.”

They kissed at last, hot and sweet. It was utterly gorgeous and Q wondered how Bond had withstood it all those days they’d been together, being close enough to bite into his engorged glands and managing not to. A few minutes with Bond and Q could barely stop himself from licking at Bond’s neck and sinking his teeth voluptuously into those new, tender lumps, so tantalizingly within reach.

Never tame to begin with, their kisses grew more heated and filthy as they sought desperately to make up for lost time. They only managed to break apart, awkward and embarrassed, when a discreet cough sounded a few feet away.

Dr. Wang stood in the doorway. “The car has arrived, gentlemen,” she said in a dry voice, in the same way she might have said, _Get a room, boys._

“Oh, yes,” said Q, colouring deeply once again. “Thank you, Doctor.”

“We’ve covered all the necessary arrangements. Will you need anything else before leaving, Quartermaster?”

“No,” said Q, glancing at Bond fondly. “I’ve got everything I need right here.”

* * *

Here's the [**teaser**](https://nana-41175.tumblr.com/post/628520809465577472/teaser-for-ch-19-of-my-00q-omgaverse-fic-at-fever) for the next chapter! It's taking a while but I'm working on it!


	19. Chapter 19

**Author's Notes:** Heeyyy everyone! It took the Muse a long while to get this done. Sexytimes are hard to write, so please send her some love and comments, if you want. Very special thanks to [**Aliensdoodles** ](https://twitter.com/Dramaticatart)for her lovely gift of art, included in this chapter! It's HOT and SEXY, and it completely made my day, so let's please send Alien all our love! This chapter is dedicated to her!

Without further ado...the bonding sexytimes! Enjoy!

* * *

They got into the car, and it was all Bond could do not to fold Q immediately into his arms and start their snogging again. Q held him off with a firm hand on his chest, nodding at the direction of the driver up front.

 _Behave,_ Q’s pointed gaze told him even as a hint of a smile ghosted through his red, luscious mouth.

Such a bloody _tease,_ Bond thought, feeling those fingertips harden to sharp points on his chest as Bond attempted a disobedient half-lunge towards Q. He subsided sulkily, with a low growl of frustration.

Q was enjoying this, that much was certain. Already, he was getting the hang of things, flexing his newly realized power over Bond by keeping up a steady stream of polite chatter with their chauffeur while eyeing Bond with a glint of heated mischief in his eyes.

Trust his Q to know how to draw things out and torture him, nice and slow.

And damn it, how could he be so chatty? Bond wondered irritably as he listened with half an ear to Q’s inane conversation with the affable, elderly driver whom Q seemed to know very well.

Of course he would know him, Bond reasoned. The car was from Q branch, and the driver was technically one of Q’s minions. Still, he was already in the throes of his rut, which meant he would gladly tear into anyone taking Q’s attention from him.

Just then he felt the touch of light, teasing fingers against his hand. He looked up to see Q watching him, green eyes alight with desire even as he carried on talking in that serene tone. Bond let that voice wash over him, soothing and seductive, even as he focused on the feel of Q’s fingertips trailing patterns on his skin.

He closed his hand over Q’s, feeling those long fingers twining with his as though he could not bear to let him go, and Bond relaxed enough to be able to close his eyes as the hectic events of the night finally caught up with him. He opened them again when he felt the car swerving gently to pull into a curb. They’d finally arrived at Q’s flat.

There was no stopping his hand snaking possessively around Q’s waist or his leaning in to nuzzle at Q’s neck, losing himself in his Omega’s scent as the man went through the intricate task of overriding his own security measures to open three sets of doors. There were so many steps involved, but they managed to get into the flat at last, mouths already fused, hands greedy on each other.

Bond crowded Q against his own door, rough hands shedding the dark coat that cloaked his slender frame. His gaze was hungry as it alighted once again on Q’s silvery, body-hugging costume.

“Fuck, Q,” he muttered as he ran a hand over the smooth, heaving surface of Q’s chest. “So hot.”

“See what you do to me,” whispered Q, breath ghosting softly over Bond’s face as he gave him a melting look. “Only you.”

“From here on I won’t be able to help myself,” warned Bond, nudging Q’s thighs apart to wedge himself in between them.

“It’s the other way around,” said Q as he moved to capture Bond’s mouth in a searing kiss. “You’re mine, James.”

With a groan, Bond plunged his hands into Q’s hair, thick and rich and very much missed as he let Q claim him, their kisses filthy as Q plundered his mouth. He bucked against Q’s hands as they sought him through his jeans.

“Fuck,” Bond said again, concentrating on Q’s caresses.

“Bedroom, I think,” Q said against his mouth. “Unless you really want our first shag out here, in front of the cats.”

Startled, Bond turned and caught sight of a silent audience of two curious felines watching them from the living room.

“James, Mousse and Cipher,” Q said quite nonsensically even as he started hitching his legs around Bond’s waist. “Boys, Bond.”

“Pleasure,” Bond gritted out, equally nonsensically, as he pulled Q into his arms and blindly weaved his way to the bedroom with Q kissing him anywhere he could reach. He kicked the bedroom door shut behind them.

* * *

Q felt the change in Bond immediately, the moment he was lowered onto the bed. Bond was ramping up, the beast within finally breaking through as he turned tigerish with need. It would have been quite overwhelming had Q not wanted him so badly.

As things stood, Q could not get enough of it, of him. He arched his body against Bond’s hard hands, feeling Bond’s hot mouth grazing over his still-clothed form and smiling as he heard Bond growl low in his throat.

“Off with this,” Bond said as he clawed at the stretchy material that clung stubbornly to Q.

“Yes, please,” Q murmured, even as he started undressing Bond with impatient hands.

He giggled as Bond’s shirt came off. The rush of Bond’s Alpha scent, heavy with lust, was staggering and he buried his nose against Bond’s neck to sniff ferociously, glorying in the fact that he could do this with Bond now, and anytime they wished.

He heard the fabric rip as Bond tore into his clothing, and all he could do was laugh breathlessly as he finally felt Bond’s warm, wet mouth against his skin. He parted his legs wide in invitation as Bond surged against him. For a few minutes they rutted hungrily against each other, with Q throwing his legs around Bond, endeavoring to have him that much closer.

“Tell me,” Q entreated, his lips against Bond’s ear. “Tell me what Resnik was whispering to you out there on the dance floor.”

“Nothing I’ve not heard before,” Bond remarked carelessly.

“I just want to know what he’d said to my Alpha,” Q replied, gravely, ”to make you melt in his arms, even for just a few seconds.”

Bond’s gaze softened for a moment. “You need not be jealous of that bastard,” he said. “It was all hormones, nothing more.”

Q pouted.

Bond rolled his eyes and gave in. “Oh, all right. How can I possibly deny you when you look like that? He said, ‘you’ll be mine the moment you get a taste of my pussy.’”

Q snorted out incredulous laughter even as Bond drawled, “I told you it was rubbish, darling.”

“Well, yes. I would have to agree with you that that was bloody awful,” Q said, quite relieved. “I was expecting something monumental, earth-shattering.”

“Well, clearly, he doesn’t have your eloquence, my love.”

“Mmm,” Q said, “but perhaps eloquence is indeed overrated here.”

He rose abruptly to pin Bond underneath him. There were more languid kisses with teasing, little slips of the tongue as he licked into Bond’s mouth. He moved away when Bond tried to deepen the kiss, nosing down Bond’s face to plant tiny kisses along Bond’s stubbled jaw. He smiled as Bond reached up a hand to smooth back his unruly bangs that fell over his eyes.

Reflected in that adoring, blue gaze, Q realized with a start how Bond actually saw him, that he was actually bloody gorgeous.

“I’d like you to fuck me, James,” he whispered. “But in a way that would be like me taking you.”

Bond grinned. “See? When it comes to dirty talk, nobody does it better,” he praised.

Q giggled as he nuzzled at Bond, claiming Bond’s mouth in a fierce kiss. He reached down with two fingers to dip into himself before bringing them back up to touch at Bond’s lips.

“There, there,” he murmured soothingly, watching Bond’s face change, grow feral, at the smell and taste of him. “Action speaks louder than words, in this case.”

He adored seeing Bond lose it, eyes drifting closed as his mouth dropped open on a moan, tongue snaking out to taste Q’s wet fingertips. Christ, it was obscene, yet he could not help drinking in the sight of his lover, lapping and sucking at his fingertips like a man famished.

“You’re delicious,” Bond growled after he licked Q’s fingers clean, hard hands raking away at the remnants of Q’s costume, exposing him from midriff to thigh, and then he was finally bare. “More.”

Q let out a small cry of surprise as he was flipped over and dragged across the rumpled bedsheets on his knees until Bond’s mouth was there, tonguing at him through his slick wetness, coaxing him to open for him.

“Ohhh…” It came out as a rough purr as Q concentrated on the voyage of Bond’s talented mouth, opening him sufficiently to plunge into his depths. _“Bond…!”_

He panted, laying his head against Bond’s open thighs as he reached out a hand for Bond’s cock, stroking the hard flesh— steel encased in velvet— and delighting in the way Bond tightened further in his fist.

He kept up the steady strokes as he kissed Bond’s abdomen, the strong muscles a-flutter from his caresses. His fingers were gentle yet inquisitive— stroking, soothing, exploring the different textures of Bond’s skin, the way it differed from his hips to his inner thighs, to his scrotum; the heaviness of his testicles, cradled carefully in Q’s hand. And dear god, the scent of him, growing stronger as Bond got more aroused by his touch.

Q held himself off as he tongued his way delicately down the trail of hairs, darker and coarser, starting from Bond’s navel, not stopping until he got to the base of Bond’s shaft. Leisurely, he trailed the tip of his tongue along the hard length, heedless of Bond’s throaty groans, tracing the veins that stood in bold relief against the skin of Bond’s prick. Finally, he closed his lips around the broad, flared tip of Bond’s cock and had the pleasure of seeing Bond buck beneath him, hard.

He sucked now, in earnest, taking Bond’s cock deeper into his mouth, relishing the taste of him. He continued his maddening caresses, delighting in every twitch and muffled curse to leave Bond.

Had it always been like this? He’d been too far gone to appreciate all the finer details when he’d been in the throes of his heat. This was utterly delightful, annihilating Bond bit by bit while he retained his full attention and powers of analysis.

Greedily, he memorized Bond’s many reactions and what he particularly liked, storing them for future use. He felt the shift in Bond and knew when he was about to tip into a new phase when his lover sat up, bringing him in so that he straddled Bond’s lap, facing him.

“Now,” Bond growled as he rubbed his stiff cock against Q’s arse, seeking the way in.

“Now,” Q agreed as he draped his arms around Bond’s shoulders, gathering himself in as he sought his lover’s flesh.

And there… _there_ , thought Q as Bond slipped in at last. Q sank down slowly, gratefully, taking in that wonderful hardness until he was speared onto his Alpha’s cock. Like this, gravity helped ease the way through, yet Q was so slick, so ready for Bond’s flesh, that everything felt lovely. Bond had prepared him well.

“Fuck, Q,” gritted Bond. “So bloody perfect.”

“Fuck me, please, James,” Q whispered, unable to help himself as he contracted around Bond, sending his Alpha fully into rut.

With a deep growl, Bond obliged as he began to thrust.

It was unusual to be joined like this, given that Alpha-Omega matings usually culminated with the Alpha mounting their Omega, yet Q was deeply touched, knowing that it was Bond’s way of relinquishing control to him.

He watched Bond, stripped of all pretenses, his face naked with need. But then, he realized that Bond had never donned any masks, not with this, not with him, despite everything he'd thought. His heart twisted painfully with love, with remorse, with tenderness, as he watched his Alpha struggling with himself, his body taken over almost entirely by his savage nature. Yet Bond's control was not altogether gone, his hands splayed out behind him, balancing them and taking in their weight as Q straddled Bond and their movements grew frenzied and haphazard.

Q ground down, unable to help himself as he took his fill of his lover’s flesh, again and again.

“Yes,” murmured Bond. “Open. Open for me, Q. Just like that. Fuck, so bloody gorgeous.”

Q found himself opening up for Bond, further, deeper than he’d ever thought possible, with every thrust and plunge. From his mouth came sounds, unfamiliar but enticing, a mix of helpless and wanton, and words of eager, filthy encouragement.

“Yes, James,” Q murmured as he clutched at Bond’s hair, hard, forcing his head up so he could kiss him. “Fuck me like that. Feels so good. You feel so good, so deep, filling me up just like that. More, oh, more _, please.”_

“Mine,” growled Bond as he encircled Q with his arms, bringing him further down on his cock even as he continued to thrust up.

“Ours. This is ours,” Q said. He could feel Bond’s knot swelling and knew they were both close, barreling toward orgasm. It was time. It was time…

“Have me,” Q moaned as he bared his neck, aching for his Alpha. “Bond with me, James. Please. Only you— _Aaaahh!!”_

His words ended abruptly in a scream, pain mixing with ecstasy as Bond bit down on the engorged glands on his neck.

 _At last, at last,_ he thought wildly. Impaled on Bond’s hardness, he shook, rigid and spasming uncontrollably as he came and came, washed away in the overwhelming tide of release.

The last of his cries died away with the spasms and he sank against Bond, boneless, moaning incoherently, aware that his lover was still not finished. Once again, he gathered himself to bear down on Bond, milking his flesh, ruthlessly pushing him toward the edge.

He gazed down at him, marveling at Bond’s look of utter helplessness, never to be seen by anyone else, as he pleaded, “Please. Please, darling. Now. Take me now.”

He dipped his head and kissed his way down the side of Bond’s neck, taking in that heady, musky Alpha scent emanating from those swollen glands. He could not help licking at them, enjoying the salty taste of Bond’s skin before he sank his teeth in, breaking the final barrier between them and making this man his.

It was with fierce, possessive joy that Q heard Bond shout, felt the way he emptied himself, body and soul, into him. There was the salty, metallic taste of sweat and blood in his mouth, and Q felt something shift inside him, something primal and irrevocal as they mated and bonded.

Afterward, they lay, spent, panting, still joined in flesh. Plugged tight on his Alpha's solid, satisfying knot, Q could still feel Bond coming inside him, filling him in small spurts as he giggled, running his hands up and down Bond’s sweaty flanks and enjoying Bond’s kisses, languid now, sated.

“That was superb, darling,” Bond said, smiling against Q’s neck and making him shiver as he lapped at the wound he’d inflicted with gentle flicks of his tongue, bathing it with saliva and sending it on its way to healing.

“Mind-blowing,” agreed Q as he nipped at Bond’s throat before kissing his bonding bite reverently. “It’s a shame we only get to do this once.”

“Hmm…” Bond’s hand in Q’s hair was light and fond. “There will be plenty of opportunities for us to explore our new state. There’s plenty of time now.”

“Our state,” murmured Q, already growing drowsy.

“And its attendant conditions.”

“Conditions…” Q repeated, snapping back to alertness as he brought his gaze back to Bond.

Bond floundered a bit. “It’s…perhaps it’s too early to delve into it. We’ve not talked about it, but…and of course, it will depend on you, when you’re ready. If you want them. At all. Because…I want everything, with you—”

“You mean children,” said Q, suddenly understanding the mess of words coming from James and unable to believe it. “Yours and mine.”

“Well,” said Bond. “Unless, of course, you don’t want them. In which case, I—”

“Of course I want them,” said Q, perfectly straight-faced. “In due time.”

Bond smiled as he moved to kiss Q. “That’s settled, then.”

“First order of business though, way before kids,” said Q, briskly, “is how you’ll manage with the cats.” 


	20. Epilogue

**Author's Notes:** Aaaand we are finally done!! It's been a wild ride and I want to thank you guys so much for sharing the incredible journey with me! Thanks very much for the cheers and encouragement, and all the lovely comments. They mean everything to the Muse and spurred her on to complete the fic. We wouldn't have done this without you! It's a bittersweet moment to let go, but we hope you enjoy! Please mind the tags, as always.

* * *

“I was thinking,” Bond grunted, “that we ought to try something new.”

“What?” Q huffed. “Like, _now?”_

“Now is as good a time as any.”

Q glanced back at his husband incredulously. “Seriously? In case it hasn’t occurred to you to factor it in,” he said, voice reedy, almost panting from the exertion but still managing to convey his misgiving, “I am currently already _impaled_ on your cock, Bond.”

Bond chuckled, low and throaty, knowing Q was displeased-- enough, anyway, to resort to calling him "Bond". Normally, he’d be purring “James” at him, especially when they were on their knees, in bed.

He merely picked up his pace, fucking into Q steadily as he held his hips in a tight grip. “I am very much aware of it, darling, yet we have to think ahead so we won’t flounder when the time comes.”

“There’s plenty of time, still,” Q managed to say, his mouth going slack and voice trailing off into a low moan as he concentrated on the feel of Bond moving inside him. “Oh, fuck, _yes_. Just like that. Oh _god…”_

He threw his head back, a small, delicious cry escaping his lips that went straight to Bond’s cock, making him thrust harder. Q ground back against him eagerly, taking him deep, clenching around Bond’s flesh in that particular way that Bond adored.

“How is it,’ Q found himself babbling, “that every time we fuck, it still feels like the first time?”

Bond laughed. “High praise indeed, considering we’re nearing our first anniversary,” he said. “Now, as I was saying…”

“I’ll be on my side,” Q said, “with you entering me from behind. What other position could there be?”

“Well, I was thinking…”

Q gave a squawk of surprise as Bond reached forward to take him into his arms, pulling him in so that he was in Bond’s lap.

“Bond!” Q exclaimed, reflexively tensing around Bond as he was tipped further backward. He clutched at Bond, unsure of what was happening but not letting go as the new position sent a wave of sensation through them. “What—?”

“Here,” grunted Bond as he continued with his new arrangement. He lay down, stretching onto his back, taking Q with him so that Q was draped on top of him.

“Oohhh…” Q gasped, eyes widening at the change in position and what it did to the feel of Bond inside him.

“Comfortable?” Bond asked.

“I’m…” Q swallowed as he lay splayed on his back over Bond for a moment. “I’m okay. It feels…different.”

“Better?” Bond wanted to know.

Q gave a noncommittal hum as he adjusted to the new position. He turned his head toward Bond. “I may not be able to kiss you,” he complained.

Bond reached over to kiss him. “It’s not that hard,” he said.

“It’s…” Q wriggled experimentally, feeling Bond throb inside him. “I’ll need to have an arm under your head. Otherwise, it’s going to feel awkward, hanging like this.”

Bond obligingly lifted his head for Q, adjusting with him as Q settled more of his weight over him. They lay there for a moment, still linked, as Q made himself comfortable.

“I like the way you feel inside me,” Q finally said as he started once again to move his hips. “But it’s awkward, not having enough leverage to push back.”

Bond resumed his thrusts, shallow at first before he started pistoning with his hips. “You’ll need to push down. Try with a hand against the headboard.”

Q obeyed, planting a hand against the headboard above him and pushing back against Bond’s thrusts, and it did help him ground down on Bond. He caught Bond’s mouth, their kisses hot and languid; soft, needy noises were met with answering growls of encouragement, of love.

“You feel so good, darling,’ Bond said, splaying a hand over Q’s torso, pausing for a bit to stroke Q’s abdomen before drifting down to take his rigid cock in hand.

“Harder,’ Q urged, laying a hand on Bond’s face as he continued to kiss him. He felt as though he’d cast off all anchors tethering him and he was now adrift on the warm, undulating firmness that was Bond underneath him. He would not prefer it any other way.

“Please, James,” he whispered.

“My pleasure,” Bond said approvingly as he thrust up, his movements short and abrupt now.

Q’s legs were spread wide open, and he clamped them down on Bond’s hips as he ground himself harder against his lover’s body. The position was quite alien to him, but it did have its perks, with Bond filling him like this.

Nestled in his lover’s arms, he watched Bond’s lips fall softly open, eyes drifting closed, as they moved fluidly against each other, finding their natural rhythm.

A year, Q thought in wonder. They’d lasted a year together. They hadn’t just got through it, they’d flourished. They’d made it work between them. Q should have known, given Bond's instant success with the cats. A year ago, he would not-- could not-- believe any of this to be possible. He would not have thought Bond-- or himself, for that matter-- to be capable of wanting this. And now…

Q watched as Bond’s hand drifted down over his belly again, his touch reverent.

Of course, he knew why Bond was doing this, seeking out a new position that they might use during sex in the near future, when Q’s body altered further and grew heavy with child.

Already he was ten weeks along. It was the first time he’d ever seen Bond in tears, the day he’d told him he was pregnant. His new state also meant that he was perpetually turned on, always hungry for his Alpha’s cock, as though he were in heat. It was rather embarrassing at first, though Q had managed to shrug it off soon enough, basking instead in Bond’s attention and his willingness to indulge him. 

Ever mindful of his comfort, as well as the baby’s, Bond had resorted to experimenting in all sorts of things attending their daily life and mostly fumbling, much to Q’s amusement. The man was adorable, though, so he refused to have Bond feeling bad about himself, just as Bond refused to let him wallow in the doubts and uncertainties of his new condition.

It meant certain changes at work, of course, but Q was confident he would be able to handle it. As for Bond, he’d never imagined him, the newly retired and newly married double-O agent, still rough around the edges, to be so invested in being a dad. It thrilled Q no end.

 _He’s going to be a good one, too,_ thought Q proudly, as he watched his Alpha come apart with a hoarse shout underneath him. The flaring of Bond’s knot inside Q sent him over the edge.

“Hmm…so good,” he purred when they lay panting, spent. He gradually eased his weight off Bond to lie beside him, a leg thrown over Bond’s hip, accepting Bond’s soft kisses and his flesh, still hard and spurting seed deep into Q’s body. “There’s just one problem.”

“Oh?” Bond said, lifting his head to regard him.

“I don’t think I’ll be able to lie stretched out on top of you like that with a full belly near term, do you?” Q giggled, watching Bond’s face fall as the realization hit. “Still. It was fun. We ought to do it again while we still can.”

“God, I love you,” said Bond, his voice rough with feeling, and it made Q giggle all the more.

“I love you, too,” said Q as he planted a soft kiss on his Alpha’s lips. “I never thought the sappy romance books would be right on this, about finding a dream partner and a kind of love that is perpetually at fever heat. It turns out I have a lot to learn.”


End file.
